


The Scariest Part Is Letting Go

by GodricSalzaar16



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Angst, Bellamy Blake & Nathan Miller Friendship, Bellamy Blake & Raven Reyes Friendship, Bellamy Blake Loves Clarke Griffin, Children, Clarke Griffin Loves Bellamy Blake, Coda, Eventual Happy Ending, F/M, Falling In Love, Friends to Lovers, Gen, Getting Together, John Murphy & Raven Reyes Friendship, Love Confessions, M/M, Minor Violence, Parents Bellamy Blake/Clarke Griffin, Post 5x05, Post-Canon, Protective Bellamy, Slow Burn, Speculation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-29
Updated: 2018-06-09
Packaged: 2019-05-15 17:21:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 20,554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14794715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GodricSalzaar16/pseuds/GodricSalzaar16
Summary: Murphy might be forced to leave Raven behind with the Eligus crew, but that doesn't mean he did it willingly - or that he's not going back. And he's going to get her back, whether it kills him or not.Clarke thought she finally had Bellamy back - all of him. But of course, he belongs to someone else now. But she doesn't have time to dwell on it, not when Gaia and her cult want Madi to be Octavia's second-in-command.Things are never easy, but they weren't supposed to be this hard.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> some angsty murven

 

 

 

 

_At least we’re on the ground,_ she thought to herself  morosely. The thick shock-collar around her neck made swallowing difficult. Her body still shook from the last time whatever-the-fuck his name  was pushed  that button. Stray shocks of electricity danced below her skin, setting her nerves ablaze. Or  maybe  that was the simmering rage.  The creep sat on the bench to her right,  leisurely  sipping water from his canteen as he watched her tremble on the floor by his feet.

 

 

 

 

 

“I’m going to say this again,” he said, setting the canteen down. She ached for the water, her throat dry and hoarse from screaming. “Give me the launch codes.”

 

 

 

 

 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about! I didn’t do anything to your fucking launch codes!” she shouted, and he back-handed her. She gasped at the sharp burn of her cheek as she fell backwards again. She touched a hand to her cheek, which was now swelling.

 

 

 

 

 

“You see,  I might  be a criminal, but I don’t like liars,” he said, sighing almost as if he were regretful. He picked up the remote again, and she shot upright. Her head span.

 

 

 

 

 

“No, please,” she begged, shuffling further away from him as if somehow that could stop what was about to happen. “I don’t know anything, I don’t. _Please. ”_

 

 

 

 

 

He smiled at her then, wide and creepy, the image more disturbing than anything else.

 

 

 

 

 

“Last chance, little birdie,” he said, but she shook her head. She was sweating so bad, her hair sticking to her neck and forehead. The room was so hot, no windows, only hard metal. It felt as if the walls were closing in.

 

 

 

 

 

“I’m not lying, I swear. I didn’t do anything, I didn’t -- please -- _please_  --”

 

 

 

 

 

And then the pain.

 

 

 

 

 

God, it was like nothing she’d ever felt before. Worse than the gunshot -- it lasted longer too. It felt as if it would never stop. Her muscles seized up, squeezing  tightly  together and she shook and trembled. There would be bruises from where her bones knocked into the floor. The heat around her neck was scorching, burning her skin. She wanted to rip the collar off, but she couldn’t move.

 

 

 

 

 

Her body convulsed, and she tried to move away from it, but the pain only increased. White, hot shocks of fire burning her from the inside out. Her heart was beating so fast, she was afraid it would stop. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t stop it.

 

 

 

 

 

She was helpless and she hated it.

 

 

 

 

 

She couldn’t even hear herself screaming anymore, all sound replaced with the deafening rush of blood through her ears. She  was trapped  in her own head, and everything was so _loud_.

 

 

 

 

 

Her vision was blurry, and she could  barely  make out the man’s face. He didn’t look particularly happy with her -- almost like she disappointed him. She wanted to claw his face off, feel his skin tear beneath her hands and crush his bones. She’d never wanted to kill someone as much as she wanted to right then.

 

 

 

 

 

And then the door swung open and he took his finger off the button. She collapsed to the ground in a heavy heap. Her body was still trembling, violent shocks running through her. She looked down at her hands; the shook so  badly. She held them to her chest, feeling her own heartbeat under her skin. She took in a shaky breath and closed her eyes.

 

 

 

 

 

“--the hell do you think you’re doing?” the man asked whoever had entered the room.

 

 

 

 

 

Raven paid them no attention, more interested in the bright light that came from the small gap of the open door. They’d knocked her out on the Eligius ship, and she’d woken up in this room, cold and alone. And John --

 

 

 

 

 

She didn’t know where he was. She could still remember the terrified look on his face as the prisoners woke up. She could feel the  painfully  tight grip of his fingers around her forearm as he dragged her out of the room.  She’d locked the door to the med-bay, and they’d stayed close to the control panel as she tried to figure out what the hell was going on. And then the other ship docked. And then John was being dragged away and she was calling out to him and then darkness.

 

 

 

 

 

She didn’t know where he was. She wasn’t sure she wanted to know. As long as he was alive --

 

 

 

 

 

As long as he was alive she was okay, she could do what she had to.

 

 

 

 

 

The pair was still arguing.  When the worst of the pain had faded and she found herself  mostly  in control of her limbs, she dragged herself up into a sitting position . She leaned one elbow against the leg of the bench and tried her best to breathe.

 

 

 

 

 

“This is unnecessary,” someone muttered.

 

 

 

 

 

She looked at them then, dragging her chin up. It was another man, younger than the first one. He was darker, with a buzz-cut and dressed in uniform like the rest of them. He  obviously  didn’t like the other guy, judging from his posture. He had a hand on his belt, and she could  just  make out the holster of a gun.

 

 

 

 

 

“I’ll tell you what’s necessary, kid,” the creepy one said, pushing the other back.  “We need those codes, and even if we have to kill her and her loud-mouthed friend to get them, that’s  just  a price they’ll have to pay.”

 

 

 

 

 

“McCreary --  just  let me talk to her,” the other one tried to reason, but the creepy one -- McCreary -- ignored him. He turned back to her, masochistic smile now completely replaced with a harsh scowl. The dislike must have been mutual then.

 

 

 

 

 

“Let’s try this again, why don’t we?” he said, as if she had a choice in the matter.

 

 

 

 

 

Tears escaped the corners of her eyes, and she closed them and tried to brace herself. But there was nothing that could have prepared her.

 

 

 

 

 

And then she screamed.

 

*

 

 

 

 

 

He breathed  harshly  through his nose and bit down on the gag in his mouth. His hands were  loosely  tied, but it wouldn’t have mattered if he broke. The men -- three of them, all in old army uniforms -- could  easily  restrain him again. They were far bigger than him, bulkier too as if made of cement. They stayed silent as he struggled on the ground, not sparing him a second glance. It didn’t  really  matter, not when he wasn’t the one they wanted.

 

 

 

 

 

And then it started again.

 

 

 

 

 

Raven -- _screaming_.

 

 

 

 

 

It was the first thing he’d heard when he woke up -- had it been hours, or had it  just  felt like that? -- and at first, he didn’t understand what it was. It was a vague, buzzing sound that rung out from the other side of the wall, too faint to hear over the ringing of his ears. Once the ringing stopped, and his brain was  fully  functioning again, he understood.

 

 

 

 

 

He hadn’t had the gag on then, instead  just  the binds at his hands. He’d pleaded with them, begged and tried to reason, but they wouldn’t listen.

 

 

 

 

 

“She doesn’t know anything,” he’d said, struggling to his knees. “Just  let her go, she doesn’t know anything.”

 

 

 

 

 

He repeated it, over and over again, as if that would somehow make them understand. But they didn’t. They soon gagged him when he wouldn’t shut up -- he almost couldn’t blame them. But the screams didn’t stop, only getting louder and higher in pitch. If he closed his eyes he could almost see her writhing on the ground in pain, trying to get away but being unable to. He hated it.

 

 

 

 

 

He wanted to punch a wall. He wanted to punch the assholes who’d captured them and brought them here. The image of them hitting her over the head with the butt of a gun still ran on a loop in his mind. He wished he could scrub the memory away, or shove it down into a place dark enough to forget.

 

 

 

 

 

_Leave her alone_! He screamed in his mind, aching to break free and get through that door. She didn’t deserve this, she didn’t deserve any of it. He tried to crawl to the door and received a swift kick to his side that had him sprawling to the ground. He winced in pain, turning onto his back.

 

 

 

 

 

“ _No, please --_!” she said. It wasn’t the first time since they’d landed that he heard her beg.  It went on and on until her screams reached a deafening crescendo that reverberated through his entire being. It shook his bones, filling his veins with fury, his heart beating so fast he couldn’t breathe.

 

 

 

 

 

He didn’t think, he  just  moved. He scrambled up as fast as he could, swaying as all the blood rushed to his head. He stumbled to the door, everything but the door blocked out of his vision. He didn’t see them coming for him -- he didn’t care. He had to get her out of there, _he_ _had to_.

 

 

 

 

 

They pushed him forward and slammed his head into the door. He tried to rear back, but they held him  tightly  by the hair.  One of them, a tall, broad and downright creepy looking motherfucker, dragged his head up and smirked, his face too close to John’s own.

 

 

 

 

 

He let out a strangled scream around his gag when the pain flared around his throat, buzzing through his body, setting him on fire. His muscles tightened and he fell to the ground, shaking. He tried to breathe, but no air would enter his lungs. He choked, trembling  furiously. He tried to move away from it, but there was nowhere to go.

 

 

 

 

 

When it finally stopped, he lay on the ground, gasping for breath. He stayed like that, unshed tears of anger moist in the corners of his eyes. He screamed around his gag again, but this time not in pain. No. In rage -- frustration. _Wraith_.

 

 

 

 

 

His fingers dug  painfully  into the metal on the floor.

 

 

 

 

 

Emori’s words rang in his head again.

 

 

 

 

 

_Useless_.

 

 

 

 

 

He was useless, he couldn’t do anything.

 

 

 

 

 

_You wanna play the hero_ , Bellamy had said. The fuck good does that do for him now. He didn’t care about the role he had to play, the only thing he wanted to do was get Raven and get out of wherever it is they were.

 

 

 

 

 

He jolted when the door opened.

 

 

 

 

 

“Bring him in,” someone said from outside.

 

 

 

 

 

The men wrapped bulky hands around his forearms, hauling him to his feet and dragging him away. He thought about struggling, but it was more likely they were taking him to Raven. And that’s what he wanted, so there was no point in fighting. He let them carry him away,  barely  taking in his surroundings as they entered a room close by. The door was already open and the room dimly  lit.

 

 

 

 

 

It took a second for his brain to catch up with what he was seeing.

 

 

 

 

 

Raven lay on the floor, a shock-collar identical to his around her neck. Two men stood in the room. One stood to the side, looking  decidedly  uncomfortable, but still had his arms crossed.  The other stood closer to Raven, and John caught sight of the remote in his hand, his thumb millimetres away from the button.

 

 

 

 

 

He looked back to Raven, panting and sweating as she struggled to lean back on her elbows. Her brown eyes wide with fear and relief, and  steadily  rising panic. Her mouth opened in surprise at his entrance.

 

 

 

 

 

There was water splashed on her face, dripping down her neck, and staining her shirt.

 

 

 

 

 

He made an inhuman,  purely  animalistic sound at the back of his throat.  He lunged forward with all bull-headed force, using all the rage, and desperation, dredging it all up in a failed move to reach her. She gasped as the older man’s gloved fist met his stomach. His knees buckled, but he tried to stay upright, tried to struggle out of the grip and get to her.

 

 

 

 

 

“No!” she screamed, as the man shoved him to the ground, a hand tight in John’s hair, and his face way too close.

 

 

 

 

 

“Now,” he said, dragging out the syllable. “Which one of you killed my good friend Kodiak on the mother-ship?”

 

 

 

 

 

“McCreary,  just  back the hell up,” the other guy said, stepping forward for the first time. John shot him a glance, curious despite the fear and panic fluttering in his chest.

 

 

 

 

 

And then McCreary had a hand at his belt,  swiftly  pulling out a knife and pressing it to John’s throat. It didn’t break the skin, but a little more pressure and it would. He had no desire to choke on his own blood.

 

 

 

 

 

The edge of the bench dug  painfully  into his injured side. The punch had further strained his side, making it hard to breathe. Must  be bruised  ribs. He  barely  felt the pain, mind too filled with panic, body brimming with anxiety and adrenaline.

 

 

 

 

 

Raven tried to lean forward but the man shot her a look to vile she reared back.

 

 

 

 

 

“You have five seconds to tell me how to unlock those missiles,” he said, pressing the knife further down. He started counting then,  slowly.

 

 

 

 

 

“I don’t know!” she pleaded, her voice aching and desperate. He never wanted to hear her that way again. “Please, I swear to God, I didn’t do it!”

 

 

 

 

 

“Four!”  the knife almost broke the skin, and John’s heartbeat sky-rocketed, lodging somewhere in his throat. He turned his gaze back to Raven one last time.

 

 

 

 

 

“Wait! Wait!” she screamed, high and strangled, almost incoherent.

 

 

 

 

 

“That’s enough,” the other guy said, drawing his gun and aiming it at McCreary’s head. The room went still, silent. The air tense.  Slowly  McCreary turned his head to look at the guy, staring in disbelief at the barrel of the gun pointed between his eyes.

 

 

 

 

 

John didn’t hear much of what happened then, instead collapsing backwards in relief. He closed his eyes, letting out a long sigh. The two men were still arguing, but he tuned them out and focussed on Raven, the heat of her body, shaking and afraid. So close, yet so far.

 

 

 

 

 

Then the men were leaving, and the only person let in the room other than him and Raven, was the guy with the gun. The room was quiet for a second,  all of  them letting out a collective breath as the door closed.

 

 

 

 

 

Raven moved forward then,  gently  removing the gag from his mouth. He stretched his jaw and shook his head.

 

 

 

 

 

“Are you okay?” she asked, soft and low, almost as if she didn’t want the other guy in the room to hear it.

 

 

 

 

 

_Damn Raven, always looking out for everyone but yourself._

 

 

 

 

 

“Are _you_?” he asked. She nodded, leaning in further.

 

 

 

 

 

“Don’t tell him anything,” he said, voice still hoarse from screaming earlier. He swallowed hard against the pain.

 

 

 

 

 

“She couldn’t even if she wanted to,” the other guy said, taking a seat on the other bench and looking at the ground. “I’m the one who locked the weapons system.”

 

 

 

 

 

They both turned to him them, matching looks of irritation and disbelief on their faces.

 

 

 

 

 

 “Diyoza  was freaked  out by what she saw in that bunker and after we opened fire she knew we were at war,” he said. “So if I didn’t say you had the missile system, she would’ve ended it right then and there, and they’d all be dead.”

 

 

 

 

 

John worked his jaw, “So you let them torture us for nothing.”

 

 

 

 

 

“It wasn’t for nothing,” Raven said, her nostrils flaring in anger and frustration. John knew the feeling. “It was to save his own ass.”

 

 

 

 

 

Whatever-his-name is sat forward and gave her an indignant look.

 

 

 

 

 

“Oh, I’m sorry,” she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm and irritation, “were you looking for a thank you?”

 

 

 

 

 

He looked a bit guilty then, but John was too tired and sore to  really  give a shit.

 

 

 

 

 

“You let them do this to us because of what happens to you if they find out the truth!” she snarled, all but baring her teeth. He had to intervene then.

 

 

 

 

 

“No, hey, Raven…” he said, his voice softer than before. She shifted her gaze to him then but wasn’t willing to turn her back on the other guy. “Look, he did  just  save my life, the least we could do is hear him out.”

 

 

 

 

 

He paused then, turning to the guy with narrowed eyes and voice deadpan, and said,“I mean, I am assuming you have a plan to get us out of this, correct?”

 

 

 

 

 

And of course, his plan sucked, but John was all for it as long as it kept them alive.  But Raven wouldn’t go for it, always looking for the other option, the one that got everyone out -- the one that saved everyone. Usually, that ability of hers was what he admired most about her, now he hated it.

 

 

 

 

 

And when her voice dropped low and dangerous as she muttered, “Trust me, Murphy. You’ll like my plan better,” he knew he was completely, and  utterly  fucked.

 

 

 

 

 

“I thought you said I would like your plan better,” Murphy said, clicking his jaw as he stared at her from the floor.

 

 

 

 

 

She’d moved to the bench after Shaw left the room, but Murphy had opted to stay on the floor. He was unwilling to move and aggravate his injuries, though he would be doing that soon enough.  He had a few scrapes and bruises across his face and down in his neck, but she knew most of the evidence laid under his clothes. With the way he favoured his left side, she knew his ribs were  probably  broken.

 

 

 

 

 

“Whether you like it or not, it’s what we’re doing,” she said. Her knee ached so  badly  from the uncomfortable position it had been in for the last few hours.  She  was drenched  in sweat and the only thing keeping her upright was a mixture of adrenalin, rage and determination.

 

 

 

 

 

“We had a real good moment back on the Eligus ship -- talking about your self-sacrificing bullshit. And yet here we are,” he said, throwing his hands up in surrender, “back at it again.”

 

 

 

 

 

“This isn’t the time, Murph--” she tried to say, but he cut her off.

 

 

 

 

 

“Yeah, no. You’re telling me to leave you here -- with people who just _tortured_ you -- and hope for the best? And I’m supposed to be okay with that? Am I supposed to be okay with _leaving you behind_? When has that ever been an option?”  he was almost screaming by the end of it, his cheeks flushed with anger and hair sticking up in all different directions.

 

 

 

 

 

“All those people will die if I don’t do this,” she said, looking away from him. She couldn’t handle the sure amount of emotions in his gaze.

 

 

 

 

 

He stood then, so  quickly  it startled her. He ran a hand through his hair, messing it up even more. He paced back and forth, growing more frustrated the longer he stewed. She watched as he leaned his head against the metal wall. He pressed his clenched knuckles against the cool surface. And his whole body went still.

 

 

 

 

 

And then he punched the wall, loud and hard enough to almost split his skin open. She jerked in surprise, up in a second without thinking.

 

 

 

 

 

"Murphy!" she shouted, moving forward.

 

 

 

 

 

" _Don't_ _!_ " he snarled, turning back to her. His face  was red, and his hair messy. He wasn't angry -- he was furious. "Why is it always you?  _Why_?"

 

 

 

 

 

"Murphy..." she trailed off, a sad twist to her mouth.

 

 

 

 

 

"Don't _Murphy_ me in that voice of yours, and that look. We're finally here, we're finally on the ground and now this! We're supposed to  be done  with this shit! But no, the universe won't let us survive unless we suffer too."

 

 

 

 

 

He was panting, his chest heaving as he went on, "And it's always you, or Clarke or _someone_ I care about. We've been through so much and yet it's never enough. I told you on that ship I'd do whatever I had to so you wouldn't have to -- so you wouldn't have that on your conscience. But I can't do this, I can't."

 

 

 

 

 

"This is different," she tried, but-

 

 

 

 

 

"No, it's not! I can live with killing 300 people. They're nothing to me, but _you_ ," he said and stopped. As if he choked on the words. Her throat seized too.

 

 

 

 

 

"You're _important_ to me. And trust me, I wouldn't be able to live with myself if I ever left you behind. I almost had to once -- I'm not gonna do that again."

 

 

 

 

 

She didn't notice she was shaking until he stopped. They stood there, at an impasse. An immovable object meets an unstoppable force.

 

 

 

 

 

It wasn't as if she wanted him to leave -- the opposite in fact. She'd worked too hard for this, every day for six years trying to get them down here. And this stupid man, this damn asshole who refused to  just  listen and do what she said and save everyone, might ruin her. She'd give anything to go with him.

 

 

 

 

 

She took a breath, pushing her shoulders back and lifting her chin. He sensed the shift in her composure, and she could all but see his inward curse. He knew she wouldn't stop until he gave in. And he would give in.

 

 

 

 

 

"I want to be selfish, I do. I've been working towards this for _six years._ The ground, it was all I thought about. I missed the grass, the rain, the fresh air. The _silence_. And we're here and I can't even," she cut herself off when the emotions started bubbling to high in her throat. She swallowed hard.

 

 

 

 

 

"But our friends are out there, and they're all going to die if we don't do this. I don't _want_ to do this, please understand," she moved to him then, grasping his wrist before he could pull away. "I would go with you, I want to go with you. But I can't. And I'm sorry."

 

 

 

 

 

"Fine," he said, not looking at her. He sniffed. She pretended she didn't notice how red his eyes were. "Fine, but you have to promise me..."

 

 

 

 

 

"Promise you what?" she asked, curious. She still hadn't let go of his wrist yet.

 

 

 

 

 

"You do _whatever_ you have to," he said, lifting his gaze to meet hers. There was pain there -- for her and for him. Desperation, anger, weariness. Rage.

 

 

 

 

 

"You lie, you kill, you do everything in your power to stay alive. And I promise you, I'll come back. I don't know how, or when, but I will. Even if I have to die trying, I'm going to get you to the fucking ground, Raven Reyes. Got that?'

 

 

 

 

 

She nodded, unable to say anything else.

 

 

 

 

 

She  was saved by  Shaw reentering the room. He paused at their  close proximity, his eyebrows raised. She cleared her throat, that thick, heavy lump of emotion still stuck there at the bottom.

 

 

 

 

 

"You guys ready?" he asked, and to her surprise, she was unable to find her voice.

 

 

 

 

 

"Yeah, let's do this," Murphy said, sending her one last look. She nodded. He nodded back.

 

 

 

 

 

He was almost out of the door with Shaw when his name sprung from her lips, unintentional and close to scared.

 

 

 

 

 

" _John_!" It was the first time she'd ever  really  said his name out loud.

 

 

 

 

 

He froze in surprise, turning back to look at her. She was moving before she was even aware of what was happening.

 

 

 

 

 

She crashed into him, surprising them both. He caught her around the waist, his hands on the small of her back and they stumbled a few steps.  It took him a second, but he relaxed into it, stiffness draining from his body as he held onto her  just  this side off too-tight. She wrapped her arms around his neck, almost standing on the tips of her toes. She rested her forehead on his temple for a second, breathing him in. His face was half-buried in her shoulder, and they swayed. Both not having to time to hang on, but not willing to let go.

 

 

 

 

 

And then she was pushing him away, towards the door, because if she held on any longer she wouldn't be able to let go. The warmth left her body with his hands, and she  was left  cold and shivering. His arms were still outreached towards her and she itched to go back, to hang on.

 

 

 

 

 

_Go_ , she mouthed, pressing her lips together. He hesitated for a split second, before nodding. He left  quickly, not looking back. But she didn't blame him.

 

 

 

 

 

When the door shut behind them, she found herself surging forward, a delayed reaction. She pressed her hands flat to the metal, her nails trying to dig through the hard surface. She waited, listened.

 

 

 

 

 

It was silence, and then --

 

 

 

 

 

"The captive has escaped!" someone shouted, and there was a flurry of voices, curses and shouts.

 

 

 

 

 

She tuned them out, pressing her forehead again the door. Again she waited. Shaw came to get her not long after.

 

 

 

 

 

He explained to Diyoza how Murphy escaped, but they were still tracking him. That was one part of the plan she couldn't avoid. She put on a good show as he typed in the launch code, but part of her fear was real. She hoped Murphy got to them in time.

 

 

 

 

 

And when Shaw escorted her back to her cell, she felt like she was running on autopilot. He took her cuffs off, and the shock-collar too. There was no point in keeping it on when they'd got what they wanted.

 

 

 

 

 

She slid down the wall, trying to curl into a ball in the corner of the room. She stretched out her bad knee and wrapped her arms around her good one. Shaw tried to say something to her, but she made a sound she couldn't recognise. She didn't even know it came from her. He fell silent, and soon he  was called  upon by Diyoza and left.

 

 

 

 

 

She hadn't noticed the wet tracks of tears on her face until she felt the tears running down her neck. Her shoulders shook with the energy of suppressing her sobs.

 

 

 

 

_Now is not the time to fall apart, Reyes!_

 

 

 

 

 

But it couldn't  be helped. She sat in a cell, drenched in sweat, burnt from the inside out and  utterly  alone.

 

 

 

 

 

She let herself cry.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pining Clarke is my favourite Clarke. And Bellamy being cute with Madi (what we all need and deserve).

 

 

There was a sinking feeling in her chest. A pit lodged in her throat and dropped all the way to the bottom of her stomach. She found it a bit hard to breath, her lungs seeming too big in her small ribcage. Her heart hammered against her sternum, painful and tender. She told herself she didn’t know what the feeling was.

 

 

 

But she did.

 

 

 

She turned her gaze away from them, concentrating on Madi. Madi, who was safe and unharmed, wrapped around her in a bone-crushing hug.  Clarke smiled, brushing stray strands of hair out of Madi’s face, running her hands of the girl’s cheeks, the ridges of her eyebrows and nose. Madi’s blue eyes sparkled up at her, relief and fear and happiness swimming in them. And all Clarke could do was thank God.

 

 

 

“You’re here,” Clarke said, pulling Madi towards her again and burying her face in Madi’s hair.

 

 

 

“I’ll always come back for you,” Madi said, pulling away  just  enough to give Clarke a wide, genuine smile.

Those words sounded  oddly  reminiscent of another time, long ago. A time Clarke didn’t let herself think about. So she pushed that memory away and replaced it with this one.

 

 

 

“That’s my line,” Clarke said, smiling back at her and kissing her temple. It had only been a day or two, but Clarke felt like she had been apart from Madi for far too long.  The soul-deep ache that had settled in her finally dissipated and Clarke could breathe again.

 

 

 

“Wow,” Madi said, pulling away  slightly  and looking at something off Clarke’s shoulder. Clarke turned her head, trying to catch a glimpse of what must have intrigued Madi. And, as she should have know…

“Is that _Oktevia_?”

 

 

 

The question wasn’t warranted - they both knew it could only be Octavia Blake. Her hair and face-paint might have changed, but she still looked the same. She lay on the ground, resting against a boulder, one hand clutching her injured arm. Her jaw  was locked, and her gaze  intently  zoomed in on the pair Clarke told herself not to glance towards.

 

 

 

Before, Clarke could understand and even admire Madi’s hero-worship of Octavia.  Sure, Octavia had done a few things that most would consider heinous crimes against humanity. But then again, so had Clarke, and Bellamy, and almost everyone she knew. But that had been different. It was alright to idolize the memory of a strong woman - a warrior. Madi and Octavia had a lot of similarities, at least so Clarke had thought.  But these past few days, watching what becoming a leader and  being trapped  in that bunker had done to Octavia. Clarke wasn’t even sure she wanted to let the woman anywhere near Madi.

 

 

 

“Yeah,” Clarke said, not knowing what else to say.  She didn’t want to destroy Madi’s childhood hero, but Madi was impressionable, and Clarke knew better than to trust Blodreina with her daughter. She tried to draw Madi’s attention away.

 

 

 

“So you met everyone?”  Clarke asked, glancing up to where Monty and Harper were talking  animatedly  with Miller.

Clarke smiled as she watched Miller and Monty embrace like family separated for way too long. Well, that’s kind of what they were.

 

 

 

“I met Monty and Harper and Emori and Echo…” Madi prattled on and on, recounting her stay with the Space crew.

And Clarke let Madi’s voice wash over her, distracting her from the craziness of Wonkru, and the tinge of pain in her chest. Madi grabs Clarke’s hand and all but drags her to Monty, Miller and Harper.

 

 

 

“Clarke!” Harper shouts, her smile big and bright, exactly how Clarke remembered it.

She found herself smiling back, taking in the subtle changes in her appearance, but her eyes were still as green as before; it was comforting. Harper bounded over, and Clarke catches her in a tight hug.

 

 

 

“Harper, hey,” Clarke said, pulling away and placing her hands on Harper’s shoulders to steady her. “How have you been?”

 

 

 

“How have _I_ been? Clarke --” Harper cut off, and Clarke almost thought she was going to cry. Her eyes were wet, almost glazed over. “We thought you were--”

 

 

 

“I know, it’s okay. It’s okay,” Clarke reassured her, giving her another smile. Harper gives her a watery smile, and they pull away.

 

 

 

“Clarke?” a soft, hesitant voice came from her right. She shifts her gaze to the right and … _oh_.

There’s a feeling of warmth that cascades through her then, something close to what she feels when she looks at Madi. Not less or more, but different.

 

 

 

He still looks the same, but his hair is shorter, and he may even be an inch taller. He’s still thin, but she can see some muscle definition on him. God, she’d missed him.

 

 

 

“ _Monty_ _,_ ” she breathed, her feet moving before her brain could catch up.

He met her halfway, both of their arms already open as they collapsed into each other.  Years of unshed tears stung behind her eyes, threatening to spill over and ruin her calm composure. Her short nails dug into the fabric of his jacket, clutching him and keeping him there. His arms were tight around her middle, close to crushing her. But she didn’t care.

 

 

 

“You’re here,” she said, almost as if she were  just  realising it.  Maybe  she was.  Logically, she knew that they were on the ground, that they were back, but it only  really  struck her now.

 

 

 

“You’re _alive_ , ” Monty said, burying his face in her shoulder. “We thought you were dead,” his voice cracked, and her heart with it, “I thought I’d never see you again. After Jasper - I couldn’t lose anyone else - and then _you_ -”

 

 

 

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” she whispered, over and over, reassuring him. Reassuring them both. It had been so long, but at least she had known - had hoped - he was alive up there somewhere. “I missed you so much, every day.”

 

 

 

“I missed you too,” he said, his voice still hoarse.

He pulled away but didn’t let her go. There were trails of tears running down his face, down into his neck. He sniffed, once and then gave her a watery laugh. He scrubbed his face with one hand, but that didn’t stop the tears from flowing.

 

 

 

She could feel it all building in her chest, overshadowing what had been there  just  seconds ago. Six years of pain, longing. Thinking that it was all for nothing - that she was never going to see them again. She was spiralling, and she needed to pull herself out of it now, before she lost it right there, in front of everyone.

 

 

 

“Come here,” she said, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and guiding him towards the car. The angle is awkward - he’s taller than her, and it makes her shoulder ache. But she doesn’t care, as long as he stays close to her. “I have something for you.”

 

 

 

He frowned but said nothing. She ushered him into the back, and followed behind him, careful to shut the door behind them. They sit in silence for a moment, looking at each other. It feels like a dream like she’s going to wake up alone and he’ll be gone - they’ll all be gone. It reminded her of A.L.I.E.’s dream world. She shivered and pushed the memory away.

 

 

 

She turned, rummaging around until she found the old, rusted box that she always kept with her. She held it  carefully, like something fragile - breakable. Jasper deserved that much.

 

 

 

“I’ve been holding onto this for some time now, hoping one day I would be able to give it to you,” she said, running her fingertips along the edge, thumbing the lock. “And now, I finally can.”

 

 

 

She handed it to him them, and while he looked down at the box with scepticism, he took it either way. She watched him open it, the sadness and overwhelming grief she’d long buried rearing its head. She squashed it down, knowing that she’d had her time to mourn - it was Monty’s now.

 

 

 

His breath caught in his throat, audible in the silence of the truck. The world outside was silent as if the universe itself knew better than to be disrespectful. His hands shook as he picked up the goggles first, cracked and worn, but that wasn’t the point. It was who they belong to - _belonged_ to. He ran his thumb across the cracks,  lovingly  in his way. He stared at the goggles for a long time, tears welling in his eyes. He placed it back in the box and moved onto the still-sealed envelope with his name on it.

 

 

 

“I didn’t open it,” she said, telling him  just  in case. “The only person that’s meant for is you. I hope it gives you what you need.”

 

 

 

He looked up at her, eyes bloodshot. He nodded. He ran his fingertips across the scrawl of his name and then tore open the seal. His hands shook as he read, and she had to turn away when the tears fell from his eyes. She could hear him sobbing the longer it went on, tiny, hiccuping gasps that tore at Clarke’s soul. She could feel his grief - palpable and raw, rushing off him like waves from an ocean. It crashed into her, filling the air with its thickness, almost choking her - choking them both.

 

 

 

She closed her eyes, willing her own tears away. There was a touch on her arm, and she opened her eyes, gazing back at Monty. He had his lips pressed  tightly  together as if to stifle his sobs. He gripped her arm, his face contorted in pain.

 

 

 

“Oh, Monty…” she said, scooting over until they were side-by-side. She wrapped him in her arms, burying his face in the collar of her jacket. And he cried, and cried, and cried. She held him through it all, through all the waves until the high-tide fell, coming down  slowly.

 

 

 

“Thank you,” he said  eventually, resting his head on her shoulder. She ran a hand through his hair, ruffling it.

 

 

 

“Don’t thank me, I didn’t do anything,” she said. “It was all him.”

 

 

 

They stayed like that for a while, until Clarke realised she’d left Madi out there - with Octavia.

 

 

 

“Stay - take your time,” she said, pulling away and smiling at him. She placed a hand on his cheek, wiping away stray tears. “I’m happy you’re home.”

 

 

 

She leaned forward and kissed his temple, drawing back and opening the door. The sunlight was blinding compared to the interior of the truck.

 

 

 

“Me too,” Monty said.

 

 

 

She closed the door behind herself, letting him have his time. She needed to find Madi.

 

 

 

Much to her surprise, Madi wasn’t anywhere near Octavia or any of her people. Instead, she said with Bellamy on a large rock. She didn’t know what they were discussing. But Madi was talking  animatedly, making gestures and over-exaggerated facial expressions. Bellamy was laughing like Madi was telling him the funniest joke he’d ever heard.

 

 

 

Waring feelings infolded in her chest.

 

 

 

Warmth seeped into her, filling her from head to toe with sparkling happiness. Bellamy was smiling - and how long had it been since she'd seen him smile? And not  just  smile, but that specific smile?  It reminded her of when the first got to the ground before the grounders came and everything went sideways  . It was unbidden, free happiness that he offered to the world - the sun in his own right. _Apollo_ , the shining sun God, beautiful and scorching hot. Blinding in his radiance.

 

 

 

And then reality came crashing down as she turned her gaze to Echo, who was talking to Harper a few feet away.  It was like whiplash, how  quickly  she shifted from overflowing happiness to unrelenting heartache. She should have expected it  really  , six years up in space. Of course, he would need someone - it's what she would have done. That doesn't make it sting any less.  Maybe  it's the fact that it was a surprise that made it feel  infinitely  worse.

 

 

 

They'd been together for days, and not once had Bellamy mentioned the fact that he and Echo were... something. Sure, it didn't rank high on the list of Important Things That Needed To  Be Discussed, but they were best friends. No, best friends seemed like too inadequate a term - they were so much more than that. And people who are like that, they tell each other things.

 

 

 

Things like: _I'm with someone._ It was simple, three words. She didn't tack on the ' _else_ ' to the end of it, but she felt it. She knew she didn't a right to that feeling, but she felt it anyway.

 

 

 

She swallowed the lump in her throat and tried to school her expression into something neutral. She didn't have to, because Madi turned to her and smiled. How could she not smile back?

 

 

 

"What are you two talking about?" she asked, sitting on the other side of Madi and tucking her hands under her thighs. Bellamy was still smiling when they both turned to her.

 

 

 

"Bellamy wanted to know how we met," Madi explained, and Clarke winced. She still had the large scar on her leg, completely healed now.

 

 

 

"I can't believe she caught you in a bear trap," Bellamy said, chuckling.

 

 

 

"Still have the scar," Clarke said, rolling her eyes and giving Madi and look.

 

 

 

"I said I was sorry," Madi whined, her cheeks tinged pink in her embarrassment.

 

 

"How you get from that to this?" He gestured to the two of them, and Clarke smiled down at Madi, flattening her hair.

 

 

 

"Lots and _lots_ of persuasions, and drawings," Clarke said, shaking her head at the memory.

 

 

 

"And stories," Madi added, giving Clarke a sly look. Clarke narrowed her eyes at Madi.

 

 

 

"Ah yes, the stories. I've heard rumours about those," Bellamy said, raising an eyebrow at Clarke. Clarke didn't let herself feel embarrassed, raising an eyebrow back. "I can't imagine the stories she had about me."

 

 

 

"She said you were an asshole," Madi said, and both Bellamy and Clarke burst out laughing. Madi shook her head at them and then continued.

 

 

 

"That it took a while, but you changed. And you became her partner - and then her best friend. That you saved each other, all the time. And you were always complaining about keeping her alive," Madi said,  matter-of-factly.

 

 

 

Bellamy had turned his gaze from Madi to her, and Clarke couldn't read the expression on his face, in his eyes. It was an almost mirror image of the one from years ago, when she'd come back from Mount Weather, scarred and bruised. And they'd camped out with Octavia around the fire. She'd woken up to him watching her, his expression the same as it was now.

 

 

 

She didn't know what it meant then, and she doesn't know now either. But it's that look that makes her heart skip, and turn over in her chest. Her breath hiccuped, caught somewhere in her throat. She had to turn her gaze away, the emotion becoming too much.

 

 

 

"She didn't make it easy," Bellamy said, echoing his words from when they'd found out the world was about to end. Her lips twitched.

 

 

 

"Guess you got your break, huh?" she asked, meaning it as a joke, but when she turned back to him, he wasn't smiling. His mouth  was turned  down, his expression a mixture of sadness and anger.

 

 

 

"Yeah, I did," he didn't sound happy about it. She didn't expect him to.

 

 

 

"Bell-" she said but stopped herself. There was too much longing in her voice, too much of that thing she wouldn't name. Madi looked up at her then, and Clarke could see all the stories she'd ever told Madi flash in her eyes. She could see herself reflected in Madi's eyes, calling him with the useless radio every day, for 2199 days.

 

 

 

"I know," Bellamy said. He knew, he always knew.

 

 

 

So many things had changed these past years. They'd  been broken, rebuilt and made better. But he still knew her like the back of his hand.  He read her expressions like an open book he'd studied for years, her pitch and tone like the sound of the wind and ocean, memorised and held in his mind  . _'_ _The head and the heart_ _'_.

 

 

 

No matter what, they'd always  be made  of the same stuff. It was the only reassuring thing about this whole situation.

 

 

 

"Healer," someone said, approaching them. Both Clarke and Bellamy stood, stepping in front of Madi and shielding her. They shared a look.

 

 

 

"Blodreina requires your  assistance," the burly man said through his thick beard. It was true she didn't want to be in an enclosed space with Octavia any time soon. But she didn't want to risk whatever Octavia's people would do to her or Madi if she didn't comply.

 

 

 

"I'll be right there," Clarke said, nodding to the man as he walked away. He looked at her with  thinly  veiled disdain, but she ignored him. She turned to Bellamy, mouth only forming the words, when-

 

 

 

"I'll watch Madi," he said. Her jaw clicked shut, and she blinked. He smiled.

 

 

 

"Thank you," she said to him, leaning forward to kiss Madi's head. "I'll be right back."

 

 

 

Madi beamed at her, and Clarke could hear Madi  excitedly  babbling to Bellamy as she walked away. The smile dropped from her face the closer she got to Octavia.

 

 

 

Time to face the devil.

 

 

 

*

 

 

 

There was something Clarke wasn't telling him - he knew that much. But he didn't pry. He let her have her shifting glances and averting eyes. He knew she would tell him on her own time, and he would wait  however  long it took for her to be ready.

 

 

 

Now he listened to Madi's stories, about her people, about Clarke and their life together. Whatever Clarke was hiding, Madi knew about it as well. Bellamy could tell, in the way she skirted around specific topics - like the radiation wave. Instead, she talked about the Valley - it's beauty and life.

 

 

 

"And we make dye from the flowers - Clarke wouldn't let me before, she always said there were too little flowers. But this year there were so many, so she _had_ to," Madi smirked, and Bellamy found that he liked that. It reminded him of Clarke - of that small smirk he'd seen on their first day trip. Unity Day.

 

 

 

"It's  really  pretty," he said. He touched the braids where the colours mixed with her natural hair colour. She smiled at him, wide and warm as if they'd known each other for more than a few hours.

 

 

 

"Maybe  we can do it for you when we get back," Madi said, but then her smile faded a bit. " _If_ we get back."

 

 

 

"Hey, no. Clarke said the Valley is your home," Bellamy said, turning to her  seriously. "And I don't know if she told you, but you should know that we will do everything in our power to get you back home, understand?"

 

 

 

"I know," she said, resting her head against his shoulder for a split second. He almost jerked back in surprise. "You know, you're  just  like Clarke described."

 

 

 

"Really ? So I'm an asshole?" he asked, nudging her shoulder with his own.

 

 

 

She rolled her eyes. "No, I mean like - brave. And fearless. In all your stories, you always do what needs to  be done  \- to protect your sister and your people. Even the bad things. But you were never afraid."

 

 

 

He wanted to correct her, tell her, _"No, I was goddamn terrified, all the time. There wasn't a second I wasn't afraid for my life, Clarke's life and everyone else's. It did what I had to, but only because I had to,"_ but he couldn't. She was too young, and it was too much for her. Too much for him. He hadn't  really  said that to anyone but Clarke and Raven.

 

 

 

"Wanna know a secret, something I haven't told anyone?" he asked, leaning forward and whispering as if he was about to tell her the secret to the whole universe.  Maybe  he was.

 

 

 

She looked curious, leaning forward and whispering, " _What_?"

 

 

 

"The only reason I was so fearless - that I was never afraid," he said, dropping his voice even lower. "Was because I had Clarke."

 

 

 

"Really?" She asked, her eyes wide. He smiled.

 

 

 

"Yeah. Whenever we were together, I knew I never had to worry. As long as I had her by my side, everything would be okay," he said.

 

 

 

She stayed silent for a moment, contemplating something.

 

 

 

"That's how  I feel  too," she said, nodding as if she made up her mind about that fact.

 

 

 

Warmth blossomed in his chest and he had to restrain himself from ruffling her hair. He was sure it wouldn't  be appreciated. They sat for a while, talking about nothing and everything at the same time. He had to urge to know her - half as a part of Clarke, and half because she was amazing.

 

 

 

Monty appeared out of nowhere, his eyes bloodshot and puffy. Bellamy didn't ask, even though he knew it wouldn't be unwelcome.

 

 

 

"We need to talk about Murphy and Raven," Monty said, and there it was, the other shoe that had to  inevitably  drop.

 

 

 

"I know," Bellamy said, sitting up straight. The sun had started setting, surrounding them in an orange-gold hue. It was the first real sunset he'd seen in years. He gazed up the sky, memorising the colours the light created against the light blue sky. One corner of his lips curled up, before dropping back down again.

 

 

 

Madi had started yawning, and he could only imagine how tiring the past few days had been for her. He moved closer, and she leaned more into his side, resting her head against his shoulder.

 

 

 

"We know that the collar had a certain radius, stretching out about fifty miles from the controls. And  maybe  a tracker too," Monty said, sitting beside him and stuffing his hands in his pockets.

 

 

 

"I shouldn't have left them on that ship," Bellamy said, casting his gaze to the ground.

 

 

 

"No, this isn't your fault. You couldn't have predicted that this would happen. You made the best decision you could, considering all the variables at the time. And we got Clarke back," Monty said, placing a hand on his shoulder.

 

 

 

"Octavia seems to think it's my fault," Bellamy said, and he couldn't disguise the hurt in his voice.

 

 

 

"Well, she's been stuck underground for six years, so her brain's a bit messed up," Monty said.

 

 

 

_You don't even know the half of it._

 

 

Part of him wants to keep them all away from his sister, from Blodreina.  They all had this mental picture of what she would be like after all this time, but none of it could have prepared him for what he got.

 

 

 

"I want to go after them, I'd leave as soon as possible if I could, but-" he paused, sighing. "The type of fire-power they have, Monty. They almost blew us all up, the exploded a person. I don't doubt they have eyes in the sky. They'll see us coming from a mile away. We'll  be wiped  off this planet before we even come close to either Raven or Murphy."

 

 

 

"We need a plan," Monty said, voicing Bellamy's thoughts. "Well, Emori's with Murphy. And they have a gun.  Maybe  she'll find a way to get the collar off Murphy."

 

 

 

"Hopefully," Bellamy said. "We'll head back to Polis in the meantime, stock up on water and food. And come up with some kind of plan."

 

 

 

Monty nodded. And then Harper was calling him over, and he disappeared out of Bellamy's sight. He looked out at the barren land, nothing but mountains and dunes of sand and rock for as far as the eye could see.  People scattered around him, talking in groups, dragging the dead away tending to the injured.

 

 

 

"Are John and Raven gonna be okay?" Madi asked,  softly.

 

 

 

He leaned his head against hers, almost nuzzling his cheek against her hair.

 

 

 

"Those two? They can take care of themselves," he said, hoping it was true. Both Murphy and Raven were stronger than anyone gave them credit for, and Emori was with Murphy as well. They could hold their own for now. But that didn't mean he didn't worry. He would rather they all be together. Safety in numbers, and all that.

 

 

 

"Either way. We're gonna go get them. I promise you that," he said.

 

 

 

And they watched the sunset together until the sky was dark and the stars shone down on them.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> memori still deserved better, so here's this

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> short, sort-of filler chapter until the next one

He’s long since given up on trying to hold a conversation with her. It’s clear, that even though she was out here with him, that didn’t mean she was any more inclined to listen to his ‘silly jokes.’ He sighed, trudging along as he went, careful not to trip over his own feet in the darkness.

 

It was strange being out here with her. So many things had gone wrong between the two of them, all those sweet memories turned sour after all this time. Of course, he still loved her. Always would. But he couldn’t hide the way he shrank from her disapproving gaze. She thought he was being ridiculous.

 

Five and a half years together -- it had lasted longer than anything in his life. He should’ve held on tighter while he still could. He could handle losing her as a lover - could deal with the empty bed and the cold mornings, no kisses between ‘meals’ and gazing out at the stars - but not as a friend. But it was evident that that choice had already been made for him.

 

“Alright, sit,” she said, gesturing to a fallen log close by. He didn’t hesitate, aching to rest his legs, relieve some of the pressure in his chest. His ribs twinged in protest as he sat down, and he tried to silence his grunt. He didn’t completely manage it, because Emori cast him a suspicious look.

 

She placed her gun down next to his feet and rummaged around in the small pack wrapped around her waist. She and Raven always found it more comforting to always have their tools with them at all times. And John knew that ever since Emori had taken to becoming Raven’s apprentice, she liked to tinker with things when she got too restless or bored.

 

She leaned forward, a small screwdriver in her hand and reached for his neck. He tried not to make the catch in his breath to noticeable. It had been _so long_ since she’d touched him. Even if it was like this - formal and with no warmth. He held himself as still as possible, half because he enjoyed the touch of her hands, and half because he didn’t want to risk setting the collar off. God only knew he never wanted to experience that again.

 

“Where did they get this?” Emori asked, her voice frustrated as she tried to break the collar off his neck.

 

“They were meant for the prisoners - Diyoza and her people. They must have taken them when they killed the crew. Shaw was part of the crew then, he handles all their tech,” John muttered, making sure not to move his head.

 

“What happened up there anyway?” Emori asked. She fiddled with some mechanism before moving onto another.

 

He remembered his conversation with Raven, about having to pull the plug so she wouldn’t have to. He remembered playing soccer, running around the empty corridors, knocking shoulders, kicking out legs. He thinks of laughing and hearing her laugh, narrating loudly as they went. They were both sweaty and exhausted, but it had been so long since John had felt like he was having _fun._ It made him feel guilty - guilty that he didn’t feel that with Emori because that’s something he _should_ feel with her. Light, carefree. He used to feel that way, all the time. Just being around her made him feel that way. But now…

 

He didn’t know what changed, or when. He thinks about falling asleep beside her, waking up next to her, spending every second waiting to see her. He can’t remember when pillow talk turned into stoic silence, or when light conversations turned to heated arguments that left them both frustrated and angry. And that now amount of hate-sex could fix.

 

“Nothing much.” he lied. He looked straight ahead, letting his eyes go in and out of focus.

 

They stayed silent then, with her still working and him holding himself still. But his thoughts were loud, too big for the walls of his mind, banging against his head, trying to get out.

 

“Emori,” he said, and she paused. Maybe it was the way he said it or the tone of his voice, but she stopped and looked at him. “I’m sorry.”

 

“John…” she breathed, collapsing down on the log beside him, and staring down at her tools.

 

“It’s my fault that we’re like this now,” he said, the guilt welling up inside him, suffocating him. “If I was better - if I was _more_. I didn’t want to change, it was stupid but I wanted things to stay the same. Things were good when they stayed the same. I just wanted to keep it that way. And I _ruined_ us.”

 

“No,” she said, firm and strong. She grasped his wrist, tugging to get him to turn to her. “You messed up, we both know that - but it’s not your _fault _.__ It’s nobody’s fault. We’ve both done things, said things to each other that years ago, I didn’t ever think would be possible. But we changed - it happens.

 

“And I know you feel guilty, and God knows I’m still more than furious with you, I couldn’t even look at you for so long, couldn’t be around you, but you didn’t _ruin_ anything. I will always treasure what we have, and I will _always_ love you. You must know, you have to.”

 

“I know,” he said, catching her eye before looking away. “I love you too.”

 

He had to say it because even if it meant something different now, it would always mean __something__  - to him and to her. She laughed, tiny and breathless, before leaning forward to plant a light kiss on his cheek. He closed his eyes, leaning into it just a little bit before she pulled away. He hummed in thought.

 

This didn’t fix anything, at least not all of it. They weren’t going to get back together now, they’d changed too much for that, like two puzzle pieces that no longer fit. She went back to tinkering with the collar around his neck, and he retreated back into his thoughts.

 

They had to get to Raven. He didn’t want to think about what they might be doing to her. Sure, Shaw had helped them, but that didn’t mean that he trusted the guy with Raven’s safety. But maybe they weren’t doing anything to her - they’d gotten what they wanted, after all. But that McCreary guy, he was certifiably insane, and John had no doubt that he would torture Raven just for shits and giggles. But John didn’t know how they were going to get to her - that place was heavily guarded, and they only had one gun. They’d be taken out on sight, and then where would Raven be?

 

Emori made a pleased sound, and John felt the collar loosen around his neck. He let out a long breath of relief as she gently removed it. He fell forward, fingers pressed to the tender skin of his neck, where it still burned.

 

“Thank you,” he said, rubbing his skin. It was ridiculous, but he couldn’t remember what it felt like before he had that collar on.

 

“I wanna keep it, take it back with us to see what makes it tick,” she said, examining the inside of the device. “Now come on, we’ve gotta go get Raven.”

 

She was heading in the direction he came, collar wrapped around her belt, and gun at the ready. He grabbed her elbow and drew her back until her side was pressed to his front.

 

“What the hell are you doing?” she asked, looking up at him in disbelief.

 

“We can’t get Raven,” he said, through gritted teeth. “At least, not right now.”

 

“I thought you’d grown out of being a coward, John,” she sneered, all the sweet tenderness of reconciliation now gone, forgotten. They were back to the way they’ve been for six months.

 

“Look, no one wants to get her out of there more than me, alright? I left her there, Emori. I _left_ her,” he said, clutching her arm tightly and tried not to let the obvious pain seep into his voice. Emori wouldn't understand it, at least he didn't want her to. Not yet. 

“But if we go there right now, we’re dead or worse. They have weapons that make this,” he gestured to the collar, “look like play-toys. We can’t fight our way through them, we’d just end up getting locked in a cell, and then what good would we be? I know you want to save her, I do too, but we need help. Come on, Emori…”

 

She hesitated, pressing her lips together. She didn’t like what he was saying, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t right.

 

“Fine,” she said, sighing. “But as soon as we get our people, we’re coming right back.”

 

“That’s the plan,” he said.

 

He didn’t tell her that he promised Raven he would be back. Hell, if Emori wasn’t with him, he would’ve gone back by himself already. He would have gotten thrown right back into his cell, but at least she wouldn’t be alone - at least he’d be there with her. But no, the plan was to get her _out_ of there.

 

“We gotta go,” John said, dragging Emori in the other direction. She followed behind him, her hand clutching his arm to hold her steady.

 

They were almost out of the woods and into the barren land when it all went wrong. They were about to break through the trees and stumble into the sand when the collar lit up. Emori jerked and yelped, removing it from her belt and dropping it on the ground. It went on like that for a few seconds before stopping. John knew that couldn’t be a good sign. He was about to shout at Emori to run, when-

 

“Well, well, well,” a voice called out from the darkness. “Look what I found.”

 

John turned slowly, putting his hands up when he saw the barrel of a gun pointed right at his head. He pushed Emori behind him, trying to shield her.

 

There were two of them, but only one had a gun, the other one looked like he didn’t need one. There was something off about them, the colour of their skin. Even in the moonlight, John could see the blue tinge clinging to them, the veins close to bulging below the surface. Back on the Eligius ship, John had thought it was the lasting effect of the Cyro that did that to their skin. But now, he knew it had to be something else. There was a sick look in their bloodshot eyes, wild and frantic, making the creepy smiles on their faces ten times worse.

 

“We don’t want to use violence, now do we?” the one with the gun said. “Just come willingly, and we won’t hurt your pretty, little girl.”

 

“Fine,” John said and ignored Emori as she hissed his name. He walked forward, still keeping her behind him. No matter what they said, he couldn’t trust that they wouldn’t hurt her.

 

The man didn’t put his gun down, but the other grabbed for Emori, which he couldn’t have known would be the worst idea. She hit him with the butt of her gun, slamming it down hard into his head. John had a second to sigh because __of course,__ they were going it. The other guy pointed his gun at Emori, but John elbowed him in the face and rammed his knee into the guy's crotch. He took the gun, pointing it at the man’s head.

 

Emori had the other one handled, lying on the ground and bleeding.

 

“You’re going to wish you hadn’t done that!” one shouted, but John ignored them.

 

He and Emori had their guns pointed at the men as they backed up slowly. John hoped they wouldn’t follow them, but if they did, he wouldn’t hesitate to put a bullet between their eyes.

 

“Let’s go,” Emori said, one hand on his arm as she pulled him back. The men stayed on the ground, and they sped up their pace. Soon, they were rushing into the desert, sifting through sand as they went.

 

John looked back at the tree disappearing farther and farther away. He clenched his jaw and turned.

 

He would be back soon.

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> solo Raven chapter, with some much-needed reunions.

They were moving her. She’d been in the cell overnight, stuck in the corner, huddled on the cold floor with her arms wrapped around herself. She hadn’t wanted to sleep, but once the shock and adrenaline wore off, she found her eyes drooping shut. She later woke up, the room scalding hot around her. There weren’t any windows, and the walls and floors were insulated, meant to keep the heat trapped inside. If this were a different situation, she’d be itching to crack open the metal surface and check out what was going on underneath.

 

She was sweating, her t-shirt and pants soaked in it. She longed for a long, hot shower, but that wasn’t happening any time soon. She shifted but quickly stopped when twin pains from her knee and back assaulted her at the same time. She gasped, leaning heavily against the wall and she shut her eyes. Her breath came in short, sharp pants and she gritted her teeth together. She hadn’t been in this much pain in __years__ , not since right after it happened. The electric currents must have fucked up something.

 

She reached down and loosened the brace. The pressure gave, softening her knee. But it brought more pain with it. She dug her thumbs into the end of her thigh, massaging gently. She bit down on her tongue to keep from making any noise. She gasped out her breathes but didn’t seize the motion of her fingers, working through the pain. Soon, the ache lessened - though not enough to be comfortable, but just manageable. She refastened the brace around her leg and did some of the exercises she’d learnt.

 

She wiggled her toes inside her shoes, flexing and pointing her foot. It was better to bear the pain, then to allow it to get worse. Shaw came in midway through her exercises. She rolled her ankle, clockwise and anticlockwise. He stopped short as he saw what she was doing.

 

“Um, we’re moving you,” he said, looking at her knee. She rolled her eyes.

 

“Fine, whatever - it’s not like I’ll be here long anyway,” she said. She _hoped _.__

 

“Do you, uh - need some help?” he asked, his gaze travelling from her face to her leg and then back again. She huffed out a breath, unimpressed.

 

“No, I got it,” her tone was scathing. It was his fault they were stuck here. Locking the fucking missile system, and then not even owning up to his mistake. It was his fault her leg felt worse than it had in six years.

 

She braced herself on the wall with her hands and leaned her weight on her good leg. She heaved herself up, hoping a little as she stood and leaning her hands heavily on the wall to keep her balance. She let out a long breath, closing her eyes and taking a second to get herself under control, before turning around and facing the man. He looked at her strangely.

 

“Where to?” she asked, and limped over to where he stood. His expression grew more uncomfortable the closer she got to him. She ignored that and gave him an expectant look.

 

“Oh, um - follow me,” he said, leading her out of the room.

 

“What, no cuffs?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

 

“Diyoza doesn’t think you’re a big enough threat to warrant cuffs,” he said, glancing back down at her knee before facing forward. She hobbled after him, clenching her fists.

 

“Huh, you know normally I would say she was wrong,” she said because it was true. She’d spent years on the Ring, training with Echo and Bellamy. She could more than hold her own in a fight. But that was on good days when her leg wasn’t as bad as now. “But after thousands of volts of electricity fried me from the inside out and did God-knows-what to my nerve impulses, I guess this proves her right.”

 

He twitched in guilt, his mouth turning down as he stared straight ahead and said nothing.

 

 _Good _,__ she thought. He might be helping them, but he was the reason they were there in first place.

 

He led her down short, empty corridors until they reached the loading doors. There was a loud hiss as the airlock opened and the Shaw pushed the doors open. Raven took a step back as she saw the sun for the first time again in six years. She blinked, shielding her eyes with her hand as she squinted out into the outside world. She’d almost forgotten how bright it was down here. How blinding and hot the sun could be. She’d missed it.

 

Shaw jumped down the small step to the ground. She hesitated, looking down at the dark green grass, long and luscious. Trees spread out ahead of them, as far as the eye could see. She could hear the rushing of water, the tweeting of birds. The sounds of _life _.__

 

 _I’m really here,_ she thought, almost giddy with the realisation. It was one thing to know she was on the ground - it was another thing to _see_ it. To feel it.

 

She was home.

 

She grudgingly accepted Shaw’s outstretched hand, holding on tightly as she dropped to the ground. Her feet hit the grass with the satisfying crunch of dried leaves and twigs. She stared down at her worn boots, old and faded, dull compared to the lush, vibrant colours surrounding her.

 

“This way,” Shaw said, snapping her out of her reverie. She sighed, looking mournfully at the land around her.

 

Raven didn’t know what Diyoza and her people had planned, but it was more than likely that Raven would be a prisoner. Forced to be locked up in whatever new cell Shaw was leading her to. She followed behind him, standing closer when she caught sight of the others. There was a break in their pathway, the thick bushes and growing trees giving way to a large clearing. She could see colourful houses. Music played over a speaker somewhere.

 

The closer they got, the more people surrounded them. Men and women, all looking worse for wear. She recognised most of them from their digital files on the Eligius ship. She knew what kind of things they did. Murder, arson, terrorism. That’s the difference between them and the Grounders.

 

The grounders had no choice - on Earth, it was kill or be killed. Or it had been until everyone died. They lived in a world where everything was trying to kill them - other grounders, the terrain, sometimes even themselves. They had to adapt or die out. So they had no choice.

 

These people had a choice, and they made the wrong ones.

 

Raven shrunk away from their leering gazes, sticking close to Shaw, even though that’s the last thing she wanted to do. She ignored the rest of them and focused on the village itself. It was beautiful. The trees had been wrapped in fabric and string of various colours. The houses were painted pastel pink and green and blue. Mismatched furniture stood littered around.

 

“Up here,” Shaw said, pointing to the bright, pink house.

 

There were wind-chimes hanging above the door. She hobbled up the few stares, struggling to keep her balance as she went. Shaw tried to offer his arm again, but she just shoved him away. He sighed and muttered something under his breath that she didn’t catch. She ignored him. She reached for the door handle, when he stopped her, taking hold of her wrist.

 

“Don’t fucking -” she said, ripping her hand away.

 

“Okay, okay. Look I was just-” he tried, and pressed his lips together and looked away. When he turned back, the look on his face made her blood run cold. “Diyoza and McCreary are in there.”

 

“So you’re leading me to my death?” she said. She was angry, yes, but the panic started rising in her gut. The flow of adrenalin overtook her again, filling her blood. Her heart sped up, the pain in her legs lessening, preparing to flee. She wouldn’t get far, not like this. But she could try.

 

 _No, that would get you killed,_ a voice sounding suspiciously like John’s singsonged in her head. _S_ _urvival instinct, Reyes. You promised._

 

And she had. He’d promised to come back for her, and she’d promised to stay alive long enough for her to be here when he does. Trying to run off would either get her shot or collared. And neither one of those options were appealing to her. Shaw snapped her out of her spiralling thoughts.

 

“No, they just wanna talk,” he tried to reassure her, but she curled her upper lip at him.

 

“Yeah, I’m familiar with your version of talking,” she sneered. He twitched again. She counted it as a victory.

 

He opened the door, holding it open so she could enter first. She rolled her eyes and dragged herself into the house. She floorboards creaked beneath her feet, loud in the silent room. She looked around the room. It was just a colourfully decorated as the outside, mismatched chairs and curtains adding to the charm. Drawings littered the walls, and when she caught sight of her own face on the far window, her breath hitched.

__

_This was Clarke’s house_. This was where she'd lived -  _survived_ for six years while they were up in space. Raven swallowed against the lump in her throat.

 

“Ah, you’re here,” a voice said, bringing her back to the present. She turned her head so sharply, she almost sprained her neck.

 

Diyoza and McCreary stood close to a large table in the middle of the room. McCreary had a large gun in his grasp, but he wasn’t smiling. He looked more annoyed at being there than anything else. The urge to rip his skin from his bones hadn’t lessened, but she dug her nails into her palms and told herself to calm down.

 

~~_Survival instinct, survival instinct._ ~~

__

Diyoza was even more striking in person. her face was all sharp angled and hard lines and Raven was sure she could cut herself on those cheekbones. Raven would have thought she was stunning - if she wasn’t a complete psychopath. Raven glanced down at the scar on her neck, and she remembered that small line from Diyoza’s file.

 

_...Found, throat slit - self-inflicted..._

 

“What do you want?” Raven asked, looking at the pair warily.

 

“We want some answers,” Diyoza said. She had a false sense of serenity around her. She leaned casually against surfaces, seemingly relaxed and loose-boned. But Raven could see the soldier beneath the calm façade. The woman who could no doubt incapacitate someone with her bare hands and not break a sweat.

 

“See, we were questioning your little friend Clarke while she was here. We were confused - as you must understand. A hundred years is a long time to be asleep, we’ve been out of the loop,” she said, giving Raven a look that said _you understand, right? I’m just like you._ Raven didn’t fall for it. “But the things she was saying, they weren’t making any sense. But now that you’re here - and Shaw assures me you’re a certified genius - we’re hoping you can give us some much-needed answers.”

 

She opened her mouth, profanities and insults sitting on the tip of her tongue - things that would surely get her killed - when they were interrupted. A back door opened, somewhere in a room in the back. They all turned their attention to the pair of footsteps slowly approaching. The annoyed look on McCreary’s face became more pronounced, and he cocked his gun threateningly.

 

“Sorry to interrupt,” a familiar voice said, and Raven’s voice hitched. “You said to inform you of any developments.”

 

They entered the room, and she almost stopped breathing. He looked so different. His hair and beard a mixture of silver and black, longer than she’d ever seen them. His hair was half-tied in a bun. He wore a thin black sweater and grey pants. His eyes were haggard, his skin gaunt and dull, no doubt from lack of sunlight and whatever had been going on down in that bunker.

 

She looked the same. There was grey mixed in with her hair as well - but that was too be expected. She had more wrinkles, and Raven could pick up the tremors in her hands. She was dressed in grounder clothes - tight black pants, and an intricate leather top that wound around her upper body.

 

They both looked way older than what they should. But it didn’t matter. They were here.

 

 _ _They were here.__ Tears sprung to Raven’s eyes, and she had to blink quickly before the fell.

 

“Of course. Kane, this is our new prisoner-” Diyoza motioned to her, ready for introductions when all three of them froze. His eyes widened, his mouth falling open slightly. Raven could hear the breath she let out next to him.

 

“ _Kane_ ,” Raven said, her voice hoarse, caught halfway in her throat. She moved forward, not caring about her leg as she all but dove forward.

 

“Raven. _Raven_ ,” Kane said, meeting her halfway and catching her in his arms. He cradled her head so gently she almost cried. She rested her forehead against his shoulder, inhaling deeply.

 

She looks over his shoulder and caught Abby’s gaze. She stood frozen, staring at Raven and Kane with a mixture of disbelief, awe and fear on her face.

 

“Raven?” Abby said, a question as if she couldn’t believe what she was seeing was real.

 

Raven hiccuped a laugh and tore from Kane’s grasps, flying into Abby. They crashed into each other, stumbling back a few steps. Abby’s arms came up around her shoulders, drawing her in closer and tighter until neither of them could breathe. But it was fine - it was better than fine. _God_ , it had been so long. She laid her hand on Abby's collarbone, only realising she was crying when she saw her tears dripping onto Abby’s shirt. But Abby was crying too, stroking Raven’s hair, muttering - mostly to herself. _You’re here, you’re home._

__

_**I’ve missed you, I’ve missed you, I’ve missed you.**_ It went on and on, drowning Raven in it.   

 

“Oh honey,” Abby said, cradling Raven’s face in her hands, and let her eyes skim across Raven’s face. Raven didn’t look any older - or at least, she didn’t think so. But maybe Abby saw something she hadn’t. Abby brushed her thumbs across Raven’s cheeks, wiping away her tears. Abby smiled.

 

Kane came up behind them, and placed a hand on Raven’s shoulder, steadying her - grounding her. She felt both heavier and lighter than she had in a long time. Raven drew away from Abby, but stayed close, with Abby’s arms still loosely wrapped around her. There, cocooned between the two of them, she felt so safe, so happy she could almost forget where she was, what had happened.

 

But of course, that couldn’t last.

 

“So you already know each other,” Diyoza said, a statement, not a question. It was obvious. Then she smiled. It was shark-like; predatory. Both Kane and Abby must have picked up on that as well. Kane’s grip on her shoulder tightened, and Abby tried to subtly draw her behind the two of them.

 

“That makes this all so much easier.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next chapter will be based on the trailer for 5x06, so lots of Clarke and Bellamy and Madi. Until then, here's this


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A threat to Madi's life within Wonkru forces Clarke to leave everything behind.

Nothing could be more awkward than this moment. Madi drove, Harper beside her. Clarke sat sandwiched between Octavia and Monty, opposite Bellamy, Echo and Miller. The air was thick with tension, too many words unspoken. Octavia stared impassively out the window, refusing to look at her brother and his… partner. Bellamy and Echo weren’t touching, sitting with a whole few centimetres space between them - most likely not wanting to aggravate Octavia. Monty leaned heavily into Clarke’s side, having fallen silent after one muttered comment, _“Well, this isn’t awkward at all,”_ upon entering the van. The rest of Octavia’s people were set to meet them in Polis.

 

When the bumping and jumping lessened, and the terrain smoothed out, Clarke knew they were there. The sounds of people milling around filled the air, muttering and cursing and shouting. Clarke gazed out through the bars on the windows, looking at the sunken in faces, the hollowed eyes and dull skin. Her gut churned with guilt. She’d been up here in Shallow Valley, surrounded by food and water, living in the gentle sun and fresh trees, while they’d been down there eating rations and living in darkness.

 

They drew to a halt, the car stuttering to a stop on the cracked concrete. Miller opened the doors, hopping out and helping Octavia out of the truck. Once she was safe on the ground, he gave them all one last nod, before going off somewhere - probably gone to look for Jackson. Monty followed behind him.

 

Everyone left in the car stayed silent, not looking at each other. Clarke turned to Octavia.

 

“I need to take a look at your arm,” she said, exiting the van and raising a hand to her head to shield her eyes from the bright rays of sunlight.

 

“Fine, just make it quick,” Octavia said, looking more annoyed than anything else. She went off in the direction of the bunker. Clarke sighed, watching her go.

 

When she turned back around, Bellamy stood behind her, while Echo stayed in the van and spoke to Harper about something Clarke couldn’t hear. Bellamy looked on after Octavia as well, an expression of immense guilt plastered all over his face. He caught Clarke’s eye as he sighed. Clarke gave him a tight-lipped smile, placing a quick hand on his elbow in reassurance.

 

She turned, ready to follow Octavia. She didn’t worry about Madi - Clarke knew Bellamy would stick as close to her as he could. It was just in his nature.

 

“I’m coming with you!” Madi said, hopping out of the driver’s seat and sprinting to where Clarke stood. Clarke gave her a stern look, grinding her teeth. She couldn’t deal with this right now.

 

“Madi no, just stay with-” Clarke tried to say, gesturing to Bellamy, who watched them with a look of intrigue. He did that a lot in the past few hours. Looking at the two of them.

 

But Madi wasn’t having it.

 

“Clarke…” she latched onto Clarke’s wrist, squeezing. Her eyes were wide and pleading, and Clarke felt her resolve falter. It wasn’t that Madi couldn’t take care of herself - she more than could - but that wasn’t what she was worried about. “Come on, _please _.__ ”

 

“ _Alright_ ,” Clarke said, but her voice was hard and her grip on Madi’s shoulder firm. “But you behave and stick close, okay?”

 

 _“Yes,_ ” Madi said, fist-bumping the air with a triumphant smile. When Clarke gave her an unimpressed look, she tampered down her excitement and smiled sheepishly. “I mean, okay.”

 

Without thinking, Clarke turned to Bellamy, exasperated look on her face, saying without words, _See what I have to deal with?_

He let out a silent laugh, his features softening into a bright smile. _Trust me, I know. Six years in space with those kids, remember?_

She mock-frowned at him, rolling her eyes. _How could I forget?_

 

Bellamy’s laugh wasn’t silent now, instead soft, but still ringing. A tune that had been stuck in her head for years finally heard again.

 

She was brought back down to Earth when she caught Echo staring at them. Not them - but _her _.__  And it wasn’t only Echo, but Madi was also looking at the curiously, her own tiny smile on her lips. The smile on Clarke’s face fell, and she bit the inside of her cheek.

 

 _You can’t do this anymore_ , she thought, inwardly caving in on herself. She took an unconscious step back.

 

~~_He doesn’t know, he doesn’t know, he doesn’t know, he doesn’t know_ ~~

 

Bellamy must have noticed the sudden change, because his expression dropped too, panic and fear rising in his eyes. But what was worse was the absolute resignation on his face. Like he knew there was something wrong, but he also knew she wouldn’t tell him. She hated that she was the one that put that look there, that made him feel that way. But she couldn’t ruin this by telling him. She just got him back, she couldn’t afford to lose him again.

 

“We’ll catch up with you guys later,” he said, smiling again, but it was smaller than the last one, just a slight upwards curl at the corner of his lips. She opened her mouth, ready to say something - she didn’t know what - but nothing came out. She clicked her jaw shut, giving him a nod, and turned to Madi who was still watching them, her delight evident.

 

“Let’s go,” Clarke said, wrapping an arm around her shoulder and dragging her away. They were halfway to the building when Clarke tried to subtly look back over her shoulder. Her heart skipped and stuttered in her chest when she realised Bellamy was stilling staring at her. She quickly turned back, catching Madi’s eyes.

 

 _“Hmm_ …” Madi said, smirking.

 

“Shut up,” Clarke said, hiding her own smile.

 

*

__

_“Gross_ , _”_ Madi said, but there was a smile on her face. Clarke glanced up from where she was busy examining Octavia’s arm and fixed Madi with a look.

 

“Madi,” Clarke said, her tone and expression unimpressed. Madi gave her a sheepish look, returning to her task of staring at Octavia in awe.

 

The infection was passing, and she told Octavia as much. Octavia barely flinched as Clarke cleaned the wound with an alcohol-soaked rag. She just breathed in sharply, letting it out slow and long as she turned her head to the side. She caught Madi looking at her, and raised an eyebrow in Clarke’s direction.

 

“Madi’s a big fan,” Clarke explained, continuing to clean the wound. She looked up at Octavia and held her gave. “She’s heard every story about the girl under the floor and how she saved the human race.”

 

The disbelieving expression on Octavia’s face become more pronounced.

 

Clarke ached to tell her, _It’s not because I like you - we haven’t been good for a while. But Madi needed someone, someone just like her. And you were it - or at least you used to be._ But she held her tongue, and looked away.

 

“And what’s your story? You survived _six years_  of radiation,” Octavia said, letting her gaze travel over  Madi’s face. “What’s your secret?”

 

Clarke didn’t trust the intense look in Octavia’s eyes, the sharp edge to the smile on her lips - razor sharp, ready to go for the jugular.

 

Madi actually looked afraid for a second - which was understandable.

 

“Synthetic nightblood, like me,” Clarke lied smoothly. Madi didn’t react - they’d talked about keeping her nightblood secret. “I took her to Becca’s lab, shared my bone marrow to keep her alive.”

 

“You’re lucky Clarke found you,” Octavia said, and almost sounded like she meant it. The moment was gone when the door creaked open and Cooper entered.  

“Ready to move?” Cooper said, looking at Octavia and ignoring Clarke and Madi. Clarke tried not to let her disdain appear to obviously.

 

“She needs another days rest,” Clarke said, her tone flat and irritated. Cooper turned her eyes to Clarke.

 

“She needs to be with her people,” Cooper insisted, fixing Clarke with a hard look.

 

“I’m done licking my wounds,” Octavia said, as Clarke finished wrapping her dressings. She stood without so much as a _thank you_ and made her way to the door. “Let's go remind the others what we promised them.”

 

Cooper helped Octavia shrug her coat on, and Octavia fixed her eyes on Madi, who was still watching her with rapt awe and adoration. Clarke’s gut twisted uncomfortably. The feeling only worsened when Octavia reached an arm out towards Madi.

 

“ _Kom folau_ ,” she said, and Madi grabbed her elbow in return. _“Oso na gyon op_.”

 

From the ashes, we will rise.

 

Clarke looked at the joined arms, the pit in her stomach growing. Clarke stood when Madi tried to follow Octavia out of the door. She grabbed Madi’s wrist drawing her back as Cooper closed the door behind Octavia. Clarke didn’t let go, instead staring at the door for a long time. Her heart was beating out of her chest.

 

Madi tried to get out of Clarke’s grip.

 

“Madi no,” Clarke said, turning back to Madi. She crouched down until they were at the same level. She placed her other hand on Madi’s shoulder as if that would keep her there.

 

“Look, I won’t get into any trouble, I just wanna look,” Madi said, but Clarke shook her head. She didn’t trust this place, nor the people living here. But Madi was insistent. “Please, Clarke. _Please _.__ I’ll be safe, I promise.”

 

Clarke gritted her teeth. She didn’t want Madi going anywhere near these people, but she didn’t want to upset her either. Madi had waited a long time for this moment, and Clarke didn’t want to ruin it.

 

“Fine, _fine_ ,” Clarke said, pulling away. She smoothed down Madi’s hair, caressing her cheek. “Be good. I’ll see you there.”

 

Bellamy stood with his arms across his chest, an uncomfortable expression on his face. Clarke couldn’t see Echo anywhere, but she assumed that was for the best. Bellamy didn’t glance her way when she came up to stand next to him. They stared down at Octavia, who stood in the centre of the bloodied pit. He was making a speech, her eyes alight with fire and fury, delighting in her people screams and cheers. She was promising them the land - Clarke’s home.

 

She was promising them a war.

 

“I hope she knows what she’s doing,” Clarke said, but deep down she knew that it wasn’t true.

 

“We’ll see,” Bellamy said, glancing at her from the corner of his eye. “Madi’s down there.”

 

Clarke looked to where Madi stood, close to Cooper and Miller, adoring smile still on her face as she watched the leader of Wonkru. Clarke couldn’t imagine what she was feeling. She’d just met her hero.

 

“Yeah,” Clarke said, and Bellamy turned to her then, both of them tuning out the shouts around them. “When I told her all the stories, she sort of latched onto Octavia. They’re very similar.”

 

When Bellamy gave her a confused look; she beckoned him closer, until their foreheads were almost pressed together.

 

“Madi’s a nightblood,” Clarke whispered, low enough for him to hear. His gaze shot up to hers, eyes wide. “Her people hid her from the _Fleimkepa_ , under the floor. She only came out after the radiation wave hit.”

 

“Hero-worship, then?” Bellamy asked, but they both knew the answer.

 

“You don’t even know the half of it,” Clarke said, a reluctant smile pulling at her lips.

 

It was so unreal, how he was here. How she could talk to him, and he could _hear_ her _._ She’d spent so long talking to someone who never answered back, and finally, they did. The pit loosened, even slightly.

 

Their attention was drawn away when the crowd let out a deafening roar. Octavia was circling, grinning manically as she took in the chaos around her. And Madi was still smiling.

 

 

Bellamy stayed where he was while Clarke tried to go an get Madi. Unfortunately, there were two others there already. Octavia and Madi were talking in hushed voices, heads bent close together. Clarke resisted the urge to rip Madi away. To Octavia’s right, a familiar young woman stood. Her hair was cut shorter, closer to her scalp, still platinum blond. She had a few more piercings now and made clothes made of furs and leathers.

 

_Gaia _.__

 

Clarke’s blood ran cold, freezing in her veins.

 

“Madi, this is Gaia,” Octavia said, motioning to the girl.

 

Gaia stepped forward, removing her hood. She smiled at Madi, who couldn’t pick up the near _predatory_ look in Gaia’s eyes. Clarke didn’t know how Gaia knew the truth about Madi - but she did. Clarke could tell, what with the way Gaia’s eyes roamed over every inch of Madi’s face and then body. But Madi would not be some sacrificial lamb for Gaia’s cult. Clarke wouldn’t stand for it.

 

“Madi,” Gaia said, her voice soft and warm. A pretence. “We’ve been waiting for you for a long time.”

 

Madi didn’t catch the double meaning in Gaia’s words, but Clarke did. And that was when she knew, knew without a doubt, what needed to be done.

 

_We need to leave._

__

She watched Gaia say a few more words, before disappearing into a door on the other side of the pit. Octavia and Madi had gone back to whatever conversation they had been having before being interrupted. Clarke stared after the door where Gaia had gone through. She needed to go after her.

 

She glanced up to Bellamy, who hadn’t moved from his perch throughout the entire exchange. His eyes were dark with concern and fear. She flicked her eyes to the pair next to her and then back to him.

 

 _Watch her,_ she said. She wasn’t walking about Madi.

 

He nodded.

 

 _I will_.

__

She took off after Gaia.

 

*

 

She caught up to Gaia not long after she entered the door. She all but sprinted down the corridors, knife at the ready. When she caught sight of Gaia’s cloak, Clarke surged forward, wrapping an arm around Gaia’s shoulders and pressing a knife to her throat.

 

“Ah, _Wanheda _.__ It’s been a long time,” she said, her tone sounding far too smug for Clarke’s liking. No doubt, she had been expecting this.

 

“Not long enough,” Clarke muttered, not moving away. Instead, she pressed the knife in closer. A little more pressure and she would break the skin. It had been a long time since she’s had someone’s blood on her hands.

 

“Is the knife really necessary?” Gaia asked, her tone innocent, but Clarke knew her better than that.

 

“With you? Yes,” she said.

 

“My my, why so scared?” Gaia asked, and Clarke could make out the smirk curling at the corner of her lips. Gaia acted as if she were the one with all the power here. Maybe she was.

 

“You’re going to stay away from Madi, you understand me? Or I will gut you where you stand,” Clarke said, hissing in her ear threateningly. This did nothing to dissuade the cult leader.

 

“I just want the girl to reach her full potential, is all. And Octavia could use a new second-in-command. She could be just like you - another _Wanheda _,”__ Gaia said, and Clarke could almost laugh at the absurdity of it. Was that supposed to make her feel better? Because it had the opposite effect.

 

Clarke didn’t want Madi to be another _Wanheda_. She just wanted her to be Madi. A child, happy and unburdened with guilt in her heart and blood on her hands.

 

“I know what you people do - what you think her full potential is, _Fleimkepa_ ,” Clarke said, and gave in to the temptation to break the skin, a small trickle of blood spilt over her finger. “Look where Luna is now, where all the other _Natblida_ are.”

 

“That was no fault of mine,”Gaia hissed back, almost as if she were upset.

“Maybe not, but I know it’s what you want. A born leader - someone you can mould into Octavia’s killing machine. Well, Madi is _not it,_ ” she said, so venomously, she surprised both of them.

 

“Shouldn’t that be her decision?” Gaia asked, her voice softer. Trying to reason with Clarke. When it became evident Clarke wouldn’t respond to this, she changed tactics.

 

“Either way - you can’t protect her forever, now can you?”

 

“Is that a threat?” Clarke asked, her voice low and dangerous. She had no qualms about killing Gaia, not if it meant protecting Madi, but she couldn’t do it here. Not with Octavia and the rest of her people so volatile and ready for a fight.

 

So she withdrew her knife and pushed Gaia forward and away from her. Gaia stumbled forward, hand at her neck to stop the blood flow. But her smirk was still in place, and Clarke felt that suddenly, Gaia had seemed to have the upper hand the entire time. She turned and walked away, not caring if Gaia tried to attack her or not.

 

“Call it what you want, but it’s the truth!”

 

*

 

Madi found Clarke in one of the tents, packing their things, what little of it they had. Madi was clutching her hand, trying to hide it behind her back, but Clarke could see the drops off dark blood falling to the floor.

 

“Clarke?” Madi asked, looking confused.

 

Clarke moved forward, gently taking her wrist, and examining the cut across her palm. It wasn’t deep, but she would still have to clean and dress it. She didn’t want to risk an infection. She grabbed a canteen and got to tend to the wound.

 

“Madi, what happened to your hand?” Clarke asked, dabbing a wet rag across her skin. Madi sat across from her, wincing every time the rag came in contact with her skin.

 

“It was nothing - _Oktevia_ just-” Madi tried to explain, but Clarke cut her off.

 

“Octavia did this?” Clarke asked, her voice coming out sharper than she expected. Madi’s eyes went wide and she looked away guiltily.

 

“It’s not what you think, I promise,” Madi said softly, her eyes downcast.

 

“Tell me everything,” Clarke said, more gently than before.

 

“We were talking, and she was telling me that she knew what it was like to be the girl under the floor. She told me I didn’t have to feel that way ever again. She _promised_ me,” Madi looked so happy, so grateful. Clarke was going to kill Octavia. “So, we made a pact.”

 

“You made a blood pact?” Clarke prompted, trying hard not to let her anger seep through into her tone.

 

Of course, she wasn’t angry with Madi - no, she didn’t know any better. She was angry with Octavia - Octavia who was the embodiment of all Madi’s hopes and dreams. Octavia who was about to crush them.

 

“It’s just a small cut - Octavia said it was a flesh wound -” Madi tried to downplay, but Clarke wasn’t having it.

 

“Octavia has some of your blood,” Clarke said, and then stopped. Oh god. _“Octavia has some of your blood.”_

 

“Yeah, but it’s no big deal-” Madi said, but god, she didn’t know - _she didn’t know._

 

“We need to leave, _now _,__ ” Clarke said, wrapping the wound and standing quickly.

 

 She took some rations, filled two canteens to the brim and packed them into the bag. She was functioning on autopilot, her thoughts running a mile a minute, while body moved through space without her control. Madi was distraught behind her.

 

“What? No! We can’t leave!” Madi said, standing and grabbing Clarke’s arm. “We just got here.”

 

“Madi, listen to me, _listen to me _,”__ Clarke said, putting the bags down and grabbing Madi’s face in her hands. “We need to go.”

 

“But, why?” Madi asked, her tone making Clarke’s heart ache.

 

“Madi…” Clarke trailed off, able to look at her.

 

“I’ll go with you, just tell me why,” Madi pleaded, putting her uninjured hand over Clarke’s on her cheek. Her gaze was so hurt, so earnest, that it damn near shattered Clarke’s heart.

 

“There’s a _Fleimkepa_ here,” Clarke croaked and cleared her throat. “She’s Octavia’s right hand. Gaia.”

 

“ _Gaia_?” Madi said, unable to believe it. Clarke didn’t blame her. For all her strength and self-sustainability, Madi was naive and innocent in her own way. “But she was - she was so _nice_ to me.”

 

“I know, honey I know,” Clarke said, drawing her close and pressing Madi’s cheek to her collarbone. “But she wants to use you. She wants to use your blood.”

 

She’d learnt early on that it was better to tell Madi the truth, rather than keep secrets from her. It was better for everyone in the long-run.

 

“But why? I don’t understand.” God Clarke wished she didn’t have to do this.

 

“Octavia is red-blooded. Her people follow her because she is strong - but if they were to discover that there was a nightblood - a _true_ nightblood,” Clarke said, and Madi finished for her, heartbroken.

 

“They wouldn’t follow her anymore. They’d follow _me_?”

 

“Yes. And Octavia and Gaia, they don’t want that. So they want to add you to their ranks before you become a threat to them,” Clarke said. Madi looked to her sharply, her bright eyes sparkling with tears.

 

“But I don’t want to lead - I don’t want to be a-a _Heda _!__ ” she exclaimed, frustrated and angry and hurt. Clarke held her tighter, kissing her hair.

 

“I know, but that’s not how they see it. I know she’s your hero - but it isn’t _safe_ here, understand?” Clarke pulled away, looking into Madi’s eyes. “So we need to go.”

 

Madi nodded reluctantly, but didn’t fight. She fell forward, latching onto Clarke tightly for one last hug, before pulling away. Clarke wiped the tears from her cheeks, giving her a sad smile. She hoped her expression could convey what she couldn’t put into words.

 

_I’m sorry, I wouldn’t do this if I didn’t have to._

But Madi understood. She always understood.

 

Clarke sent her ahead to the car, while she grabbed the packs. She threw them over her shoulder and looked around. The guilt was building up in her chest. She knew he couldn’t just leave without saying anything - well, she could, but she _shouldn’t_. But she couldn’t bare it, to look into their faces and tell them she had to leave them behind. It was better ( _easier_ , her torturous brain piped in) to just go and deal with everything afterwards.

 

And _him _.__

__

She couldn’t involve him. He was too close to it all - to Octavia, to _her _.__  She couldn’t ask him to choose between the two of them, so it was better if she just took the choice away from him. He’d be angry with her, but she’d bare it. Because this was what she had to do to protect Madi. And if he understood anything, he would understand this.

 

But she couldn’t even imagine going up to him right now and telling him she had to go. He wouldn’t stop her - she knew that. But just him being here, it was a strong reason for her to stay anyway. But she couldn’t endanger Madi because of her own selfish feelings. So she would leave, and hope that maybe one day he would forgive her. That is, if they ever see each other again.

 

She pushed that thought from her mind, and focused on what she had to do. She left the tent - and as if a sign from the universe - ran straight into Echo. Echo turned, startled. She glanced at Clarke’s distraught expression, to the packs slung over her shoulder, to Madi was sat in the passenger seat of the Rover. Her eyes widened.

 

“You’re leaving,” she said, not a question. “Clarke-”

 

“Look, Echo. I have to go. If I had a choice I wouldn’t, but Madi isn’t safe here,” Clarke said, turning her gaze to Madi who was gazing sullenly ahead of her. “I can’t explain right now, I can only tell you that I have to do this.”

 

“You should tell Bellamy, he’ll want to know-” Echo said, but Clarke shut her down. Grief reared its ugly head, but she squashed it down.

 

“He can’t know, he can’t know until I’m gone,” Clarke said, sharply.

 

“Clarke, he wouldn’t stop you,” Echo said, and Clarke gave her a sad smile.

 

“I know that, but I can’t - I just -” Clarke tried to say, but the words wouldn’t come out. Somehow, Echo understood anyway.

 

“What do you want me to tell him?” she asked instead, and Clarke had never felt more thankful.

 

“Tell him - tell him I’m sorry,” Clarke said, and tried to hide the raw emotion evident in her voice. Echo was Bellamy’s …person, after all. But some of it must have seeped through anyway, because Echo’s gaze softened. “And that I wouldn’t do this if I didn’t have to.”

 

“Okay,” Echo said, nodding. Clarke gave her a small, thankful smile. When they caught sight of one of Octavia’s people watching them, Echo’s gaze hardened.

 

“Go,” she said to Clarke, but kept her gaze trained on the woman. “I’ll take care of her.”

 

Clarke hurried to the Rover, pulling open the door and collapsing into the driver’s seat. She threw the packs in the back, and started the car. She heard loud talking, and glanced out of the window to see Echo in an intense conversation with the woman who had been watching them.

 

Clarke quickly pulled the car into the reverse, and winced as the tired squeaked against the concrete. She got out of there as fast as she could, narrowly avoiding Wonkru people, and heading for the desert. She pressed her foot down hard on the ignition, breezing through the streets and into the dryland. The dull, grey terrain turned sandy around them, and only once they were a safe distance away from Polis did Clarke slow down.

 

They drove in silence, with Madi staring forlornly out the window. Clarke glanced at her now and again, holding back her sigh. She kept one hand on the wheel, while she reached for Madi’s hand with her other. Madi’s eyes jerked up to meet hers, and she latched onto Clarke’s hand immediately.

 

“I’m _sorry_ ,” Clarke said, and meant it.

 

She turned her eyes back to the land, but squeezed Madi’s hand in her own. Madi squeezed back, and didn’t let go.

 

“I’m sorry too,” Madi said, but Clarke felt her apology was for an entirely different reason.

 

 _I’m sorry they left without you,_ Madi had said not to long ago.

 

_But if I had gone with them, I never would’ve met you._

 

It was always going to be Madi who came first from now on. But that doesn’t mean it didn’t break her heart a little.   

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bellamy's POV next chapter.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a short, angsty Bellamy chapter for you

There was something wrong. He didn’t what was, but he just knew. There was a churning in his gut and a prickling at his neck. He could be imagining things, but it felt too real. As if there was some other shoe that still needed to drop. It could be a result of their meeting with Octavia, or his conversation with Monty, or the entire situation with Echo – either way, he knew something was _wrong._

 

“ _Echo,_ ” Bellamy said. So many words sat at the tip of his tongue, things he knew he needed to say, but wouldn’t come out. Guilt constricted his chest, and he found it getting harder and harder to breathe.

 

“Bellamy, I need to do this,” Echo said, as she went around the tent, packing her things. She was pointedly _not_ looking at him as she moved around, and that gave her away.

 

“No you don’t, we can all leave -” he tried to say, grabbing her wrists in his hands. She still wasn’t looking at him.

 

“ _No_ ,” Echo said, viscously. “This isn’t just because of – _us_. Raven and Murphy and Emori are still there, and the people here don’t deserve to _die_ just because your sister is a fool.”

 

He fell silent. Years ago, he would’ve attacked the person who would have dared to insult his sister, but now... Now, Octavia wasn’t his sister – or at least not the sister he had always known. She was _Blodreina_ now, a fierce commander of her people. But she was a fool – overestimating her forces, _underestimating_ Diyoza’s.

 

“I know,” he said, and sighed, he stepped back, and ran a hand through his hair.

 

God, it wasn’t just that they were _together._ Echo was one of his _people_ now. In the same way that Monty, Harper, Raven, Emori and Murphy were. They look out for each other – protect each other.

 

“You have the flash-drive?” he asked, in lieu of saying anything else. He didn’t know what to say.

 

_No, don’t go._ She’d already made it clear he wasn’t going to be able to change her mind.

 

_Don’t leave me._ But he couldn’t be that selfish. His people – and Octavia’s people – were at risk if she didn’t complete this mission.

 

So in the end, there was nothing else to do, but wish her good luck and hope that she came back in one piece – _if_ she came back at all.

 

That felt like his sister’s true plan. Separate them, send Echo on a _suicidal_ mission, and keep Bellamy on her side. And he was falling right into her trap, but he couldn’t see any way out of it.

 

“I’d tell you to keep them safe, but you do that anyway. So I’m going to tell you to look out for _yourself._ I don’t want you dying while I’m gone,” she said and smiled as if it were funny. The fact that it was an actual possibility scared him more than anything.

 

He sniffed, turning away from her as he ran a hand over his face. It came back wet.

 

“Why does that feel like goodbye? Shouldn’t it just be _I’ll see you later_?” He asked, still turned away from her.

 

“Oh, _Belomi_ ,” Echo said, cupping his face in her hands and gently turning his face to look at her. “We knew this was coming, we’ve always known.”

 

“But I told you -”

 

“That nothing would change on the ground,” Echo finished for him. “It was a fantasy and we both knew it. A dream we told ourselves come true. But things _always_ change on the ground. Up there, we only exist together because we were not down here.”

 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered.

 

“No, don’t apologize,” she said and shook her head. “It was a wonderful few years Bellamy, and I will keep them with me in my heart, _always_.”

 

“So this _is_ goodbye then?” he asked. He didn’t expect this to be as painful as it was. He felt like he’d lost twice as much as he’d bargained away.

 

“No – maybe. _If_ ,” she said, and his heart clenched. “I come back, things won’t be the same. So maybe this is not goodbye forever – but just for _us.”_

 

_I’m sorry_ almost came out again, but he stopped himself. No amount of apologies were going to change anything, it was all already done.

 

She kissed him then, and his heart squeezed painfully. It was short, almost chaste. But he knew what it meant – _thank you, goodbye._

 

There was a loud noise from outside, and he knew it was Diyoza’s ship coming to get the defectors. They pulled away from each other, and Echo gave his cheek one last caress before taking her hand back and getting her bag. He stood frozen, his hand still outstretched towards her.

 

She was headed towards the opening of the tent before he could blink, but still, he didn’t move. He couldn’t watch her leave.

 

“Bellamy,” Echo said, and her tone made him whip around.

 

That feeling of _wrongness_ reared its head again, a monster building up within him. The pained look on Echo’s face, and the sudden silence – as if the world had stopped spinning just for this second – pulsed through his veins. There was a buzzing beneath his skin – _fear._ It seeped from his pores, oozing out of him and filling the small tent.

 

“What?” he asked, afraid of the answer.

 

And then the world shattered, splintered pieces cutting through his skin and tearing through his soul, sharper than the crystallised glass of that sandstorm.

 

He stumbled when Echo left the tent, taking the last vestiges of his sanity with her. He fell to the floor, grief and guilt and _anger_ welling up inside of him. His hands shook and he placed them flat on the ground. He dug his short nails into the hard cement, watching his fingertips turn white under the pressure.

 

His chest heaved, breaths to laboured and heavy, heart tripping and stumbling in his chest. He couldn’t breathe – he couldn’t _breathe_. The pain was unbearable, it clawed at his insides. Sharp talons dug into his side and sliced through him. It radiated around him, nothing but this pain and fury and _hurt_ surrounded him, and he couldn’t make it stop. It kept coming, wave after wave, hitting him over and over, until he toppled over. His carefully constructed composure crumbled, the heavy cemented walls falling apart like sand.

 

He screamed. He lifted his fists and punched the ground, over and over again, until the blood welled at his knuckles and the skin broke. He didn’t care. He didn’t stop.

 

And then Harper showed up.

 

“Bellamy -? Bellamy! _Stop_ ,” she rushed over and grabbed his wrists. He struggled for a second, trying to pull away from her, but she didn’t relent. She waited, patiently until he stopped and gave in. And when he gave in, the anger faded away and the excruciating pain set it. Pain worse than he’d felt in years.

 

And he wept.

 

Harper held him, moving to sit next to him on the ground. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, rubbing a soothing hand down his back. She was muttering, offering him her words and her time, and he almost felt bad for putting this on her. But he couldn’t stop, could only hold on as his body threatened to float away. It was too much, it was all _too much._

 

He’d lost both of them. he’d lost them. They were gone.

 

_Clarke was gone._

 

He gasped as if just inhaling more air would lessen the ache in his chest. Of course, it didn’t. The ache was still there, spreading through his body, reaching the tips of his fingertips and toes. There weren’t enough words to describe the bone-deep _pain_ he felt. Like he’d been ripped to shreds, and but sloppily back together. He was slivers of himself, sliced clean through.

 

When he came down, the world was still silent, Diyoza’s ship long gone, along with Echo. And Echo gone, along with her words.

 

_Bellamy..._

 

_she’s gone..._

 

_she had to..._

 

_it wasn’t safe..._

 

_she said she was sorry..._

 

_she wouldn’t have left if there was another choice..._

 

_she’s sorry..._

 

_sorry_

 

_sorry_

 

it banged against his head, those ridiculous words. She was _sorry_? she’d left him here alone – after _six years –_ after everything they’d been through. She hadn’t trusted him enough for this.

 

He thought they were done leaving each other. He thought that this was _it._ They were finally back together again – they were finally a team again. He was _home. Clarke_ was alive. It was everything he could have ever hoped and wished and dreamed for.

 

But it was too good to be true. It was always too good to be true. He should have known better. He usually does. But it’s never been like that with Clarke. They’d always fit, always just get each other, so completely, even on the bad days (weeks, months).

 

He pulled away from Harper and she let him go. He looked down at his hands and the floor. There was blood everywhere, smeared on the floor, across his clothes and staining his skin. His knuckled were broken and bruised and still bleeding. But he couldn’t feel a thing, too numb to feel. The only pain his mind registered was the one in his heart. But still, he stared at the dark red until his vision swam until he was seeing visions of his sister, of Echo, Clarke, Madi – _everyone_ – just covered in it.

 

“You need to get that cleaned up before it gets infected,” Harper said, drawing him out and away from his spiralling thoughts. “I’ll get Clarke.”

 

She made to stand, but he grabbed her wrist and almost yanked her back down. She looked at him in alarm.

 

“No,” Bellamy said, his voice hoarse and sore from the screaming and the crying.

 

“Just stay here, I’ll get Clarke and she’ll fix this,” Harper said, trying to reassure him, but it was doing to opposite.

 

“You don’t understand,” Bellamy begged, still clutching her arm, smearing his blood across her skin. “Clarke’s not here.”

 

“Don’t be ridiculous – I’ll get her and you’ll -”

 

“She left, Harper,” Bellamy said, his words bringing about another wave of pain that threatened to topple him again.

 

“ _She left,_ ” he whispered, still unable to fully comprehend it.

 

“No,” Harper said.

 

When he looked up at her, her eyebrows were drawn together in confusion. It was like her brain wouldn’t register the words.

 

“We just got her back, she wouldn’t leave,” Harper said, stressing the words as if that alone would speak it into existence.

 

Bellamy wished it were that easy.

 

“She did – she took Madi and left,” Bellamy said, trying to find his footing enough to stay upright.

 

Harper bounded over, wrapping an arm around his middle and helped to support his weight. He stood, leaning heavily into her side. He was dizzy with grief, his vision blurry.

 

“Bellamy, I’m so-” Harper said, but he stopped her. He couldn’t _stand_ to hear those words, not now.

 

“Don’t,” he said, a bit more harshly than intended. But she didn’t take offence. Instead, her expression morphed into one of understanding and – _god, no_ – pity. It was almost identical to the once Echo gave him.

 

“Let’s get you to Jackson then,” Harper suggested, and he nodded.

 

She helped him as they left the tent, never once letting go of him. They made their way into the bunker, strolling around until they found themselves in the infirmary. There were other people there, still recovering from their wounds inflicted during the sandstorm. Monty was there too, along with Miller. Jackson sat at a desk, talking to Miller.

 

Bellamy put his pain aside long enough to study them. Miller stood to Jackson’s side, his arm resting on the back of the chair as he stared down at Jackson, the tiniest of smiles on his face. The practised ease they exhibited around one another, the way Jackson subtly glanced at Miller with a fond expression, spoke of years forged together – love and adoration spoken in their gazes. It seemed Bellamy wasn’t the only one to find someone in the six years they’d been apart.

 

He just hoped it worked out better for them than it had for him. Miller deserved as much – even if he didn’t consider Bellamy a friend anymore.

 

When Monty caught sight of the two of them, his eyes widened and he shot up.

 

“Bellamy! What happened?” Monty asked, his eyes darting about Bellamy’s body, searching for the source of all the blood. When he caught sight of Bellamy’s knuckles, his expression went tight.

 

“It’s nothing,” Bellamy said, trying to reassure him with a smile, but he knew it looked more like a grimace than anything else. If possible, Monty’s expression grew even more grave.

 

“That’s not nothing,” Miller said, as Harper dragged Bellamy the rest of the way to Jackson. Bellamy had enough presence of mind not to snap, _What does it matter to you?_

 

“Just got into a fight with the floor, is all,” which was the truth. He had. And the floor had evidently won.

 

Jackson was already up and moving, filling a bowl with water, checking cabinets for medication and shuffling around in draws to produce gauze and bandages. He placed all the items on the table and gestured for Bellamy to take a seat in the chair he’d vacated. Bellamy happily collapsed, letting out a long sigh.

 

“Bell, I know Echo leaving is hard, but you can’t just-” Monty tried to say, but Harper made a distressed noise in the back of her throat that drew everyone’s attention to her.

 

She gave Monty a look that said _Just leave it alone, Monty,_ but of course, Monty didn’t get it. He gave her his own confused look before turning back to Bellamy.

 

“You can’t do this. I mean look at you, your hands are almost broken,” Monty said. Bellamy was about to tell him that he was overreacting and that his hands were _far_ from broken when Jackson interrupted.

 

“He’s right, you should be happy your the damage isn’t more severe,” Jackson said, giving him a significant look at he cleaned the blood off Bellamy’s hands and disinfected the wounds.

 

“We _need_ you, Bell,” Monty said, and that turned out to be the exact _wrong_ thing for him to say.

 

“ _No_ ,” he said, viciously, turning his glare on Monty. “You don’t need me, you’d be just fine on your own.”

 

Monty took a step back, his eyes wide and filled with hurt. Bellamy cursed himself and his temper. He shouldn’t be taking this out on Monty, it wasn’t his fault.

 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that,” Bellamy said, shaking his head. “It’s not you, Mont. I’m just upset.”

 

“Then _tell me,”_ Monty said, kneeling at Bellamy’s side. His eyes were so wide and bright, and Bellamy knew he just wanted to make things _better,_ but Bellamy didn’t know if that was even possible.

 

“She’s gone,” he whispered, his voice almost disappearing. He felt so raw, tore open for all the world to see, his hands – his heart – bleeding onto the floor.

 

“But you knew Echo was leaving, but she’s coming back Bell. She wouldn’t want you to do this to yourself,” Monty said, and Bellamy chuckled humourlessly.

 

“I wasn’t talking about Echo,” Bellamy said, and Monty frowned at him. “I meant Cl-”

 

His voice caught in his throat, and he swallowed, closing his eyes against the sensation that crept through his body.

 

“Clarke,” Bellamy said. “She left.”

 

Monty stared.

 

“No,” Monty said.

 

“Monty, I’m-”

 

“ _No_ ,” Monty all but shouted. He’d been doing that a lot lately. “Clarke wouldn’t just _leave_ , not when we just got her back. She wouldn’t – she – we -”

 

“ _Monty,”_ Bellamy begged, but he didn’t know for what. To stop, to continue?

 

“She didn’t even say goodbye,” Monty said, falling to the floor by Bellamy’s feet. He starred forward, and Bellamy could see the way he retreated.

 

And that’s what it boiled down to, didn’t it? _She didn’t even say goodbye._

 

That’s what really got to him. She hadn’t said anything, had just disappeared into the desert without so much as a warning. And she’d told _Echo._ It wasn’t right. After everything, she should have come to him – to them. Coming back down here, it had felt like things were finally going _right._ Suddenly, those six years had seemed to have taken too long, but also flown by so quickly, and for a second it was like old times like nothing had changed. She’d been right there the whole time, and there was a brief moment when he thought she was a figment of his imagination – that he conjured her from memories and dreams – and none of it had been real.

 

But he’d felt her arms around him, her breath of his neck, and the way her now short hair tickled the skin of his neck. He remembered the smell of her – sweat and pine and grass – and the way she said his name – so _desperately_ as if she too couldn’t believe he was real, that he was _there._ It was so heart-wrenchingly perfect, that he should have known it wouldn’t last.

 

And now she was gone, maybe forever this time. She’d left him – _again_ \- and suddenly he felt like that scared boy he’d been years ago, six years forgotten.

 

It’s not like he would have stopped her, he’d never do that. He took care of Octavia for most of his life – he knew what it meant to have to drop everything to protect your kid. But just a heads-up, just a promise of communication. Closure. It was all he wanted – all he was asking for. But she hadn’t even given him the choice.

 

Had he really fallen so low in her mind, that she couldn’t even trust him with this?

 

He breathed out harshly when Jackson splashed alcohol across his knuckles and drew Bellamy out of his thoughts. He looked down at his hands, blue and red and purple bruises, hideous and gaping wounds staring back at him. They reminded him of himself.

 

There was a big, open wound in his chest. No one but he could see it. And it bled and bled.

 

He didn’t think it would ever stop.


End file.
